


We're Keeping the Baby!

by willowtree1415



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Parents, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Boarding School, Doctor John Watson, F/M, Gay Parents, Jealous Sherlock, John Loves Sherlock, John and Sherlock are Parents, John/Sherlock teenage, Johnlock - Freeform, Kid Felix, Kidlock, M/M, Multi, Parentlock, Possessive Sherlock, School Uniforms, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Relationships, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock's First Time, Teenage Parents, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowtree1415/pseuds/willowtree1415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage Sherlock and John get given a 4 month old baby, and they become strangely attached.... </p><p>Just an idea that popped into my head, and I had to write it down! Tell me what you think! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "It is a wise father that knows his own child."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new idea and i don't know if this is any good, so let me know in the comments whether you like it or want to see more! Thanks :)

John was following Sherlock, (as usual) through a park. Sherlock was darting around to and fro, trying to find clues associated with their latest case. John was getting increasingly more weary and he wanted to go home but he just knew Sherlock wouldn't be giving up on this ‘possibility of clues’ any time soon, and he couldn't exactly just leave him to it, not with what happened last time...

They had been chasing a man down the streets of London and John had managed to lose track of Sherlock. He was trying not to panic as he walked back home, knowing that he would be informed of everything later. When he was, he discovered that Sherlock had managed to commandeer a taxi cab, (despite being too young to drive, let alone drive a taxi!) and driven it manically around until he managed to “skillfully” (Sherlock’s description) run the man over, with the skillful part being that it only knocked the man out. This was NOT going to be happening again John thought, as he kept his eye on Sherlock as he moved away. 

They ended up in the children’s play area in the park, by the slides and swing and immediately obtained disapproving, overprotective looks from the mothers, who kept a firm eye on their own children and the pair. John sighed, he just didn’t understand their prejudices, the mothers just saw a pair of teenagers and were automatically wary for their children's safety, without even knowing them!  
Although to be fair to them, Sherlock did look rather peculiar, he is tall for his age anyway, and currently wearing a dramatic long black coat with his dark curls falling around his head like a wild disheveled birds nest. What made it worse was he was on the floor on his front looking at a patch of grass by the edge of the swings through his magnifying glass, and John was sure that in the mothers minds this was Sherlock ‘ready to pounce’ on their unsuspecting children. 

John was looking around standing by the swings whilst waiting for Sherlock to finish his deductions so they could move on, when a man came to stand by him. The man had just picked up his small child who John reckoned looked around 5 months old. He was gently rocking the child, whose face was resting on his shoulder. John looked over and smiled at the child who smiled back. Then he put his hands over his eyes and quickly moved them away, playing peek-a-boo. The man saw John out of the corner of his eye, and turned to talk to him. 

“Hello” The man said,

“Hello” John said smiling, wary of whether or not it had been appropriate to smile at someone else’s child. “I’m sorry, your baby is very cute!” He said.

“Oh, he can be a rascal though!” The man smiled back, reassuring John.

They continued to talk together, until a worried look came over the man’s face. The look changed to sheer panic and then determination. John, concerned looked to where the man was looking, and spotted a small figure darting between some trees a little way off. The man whipped out of his pocket a badge, which he showed to John.

“Secret Service, I’m going to have to ask you to hold my child. This is an emergency and a matter of utmost importance.” 

John looking panicked, was handed the child from the man, and took a step backwards to stand next to Sherlock who had risen from the floor on hearing what the man had said. Together they watched him run towards the cluster of trees.  
It all happened so quickly, they barely had time to realise what was happening. As soon as the man disappeared behind a tree they heard three loud gunshots which rang through the air and echoed away. A small figure, although not the man they had been talking to, promptly ran away from the trees.  
Sherlock in this situation would have usually gone running after the shooter, regardless of the danger. But this was different.  
He turned to John who sucked in a breath, his eyes glazed in shock. He looked down at the child in John’s arms, who was looking up at the two with wide eyes and a small mouth curved into small ‘o’ shape. John gritted his teeth, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.  
How swiftly everything had changed. He almost didn't believe what had just happened. He looked around at the park but there was nobody there anymore. John had a feeling that they must have left before the shooting or else they would have heard some screams from the overprotective mothers, whose overprotectiveness didn't seems so ridiculous to John anymore. 

“What, are we going to do about the child?” John whispered to Sherlock, not trusting his voice to get any louder.

“I’m checking the man. Stay here” 

“Sher- Oh for-” John stammered as Sherlock bolted towards the trees.  
He tried to rock the child in his arms the way he had seen mothers do, he patted him on the back and stroked his hair, murmuring that everything was going to be okay, although he was reassuring himself more than the child, who was too young to understand what had just happened. 

As Sherlock came back, he shook his head at John’s hopeful expression.

“No. He’s- he’s dead.” 

“Oh, god. What are we going to do about the child then? Sherlock?” 

“We ring Mycroft. Come on.”

Sherlock started striding towards the park’s exit and towards his flat, John followed behind holding the baby. Sherlock dialed in a number as they walked.

“Mycroft. We have a....situation.” 

Despite Mycroft only being 10 years older than Sherlock, that making him only 26, he already held a high ranking position of authority in the British Government.  
He was constantly helping Sherlock to get out of trouble, and seemed to always have someone who he could bribe to get needed information. This, not even starting to use the Holmes fortune, to which there was always access to as well.

“We need you to get information... No its not for The Barmount’s Case..... Yes I know it was simple.... Oh course i’ve solved it.” He snapped.  
“This is something different. A man, has left us... well in charge of a child.” Sherlock looked around at John holding the baby. “Yes Mycroft. A CHILD. Yes we have him here.... He’s... 4 months old... Dark hair... Slightly wavy... Blue eyes...No i’m not describing myself... Yes, he does look like me... No Mycroft, i’ve not cloned myself!.... No we did not take him! We were given him!... In a park... Yes, a man... He was Secret Service... fine... yes... no. We will be at the flat.” He hung up and put away his phone, and then got out his keys as they approached the flat door. 

This flat was a apparent “Necessity” of Sherlock’s, bought 3 years ago, (with the Holmes’s fortune) and it was “needed” for Sherlock to live when he was sick of the huge family mansion, and home from school. Inadvertently he usually lived there for the entire holiday. His parents didn't seems to care where he was, maybe they thought it boosted his independence, and so long as he was there for Christmas, Birthday’s, and other festive occasions, they turned a blind eye to his absence.

Once in the flat John sat down on his chair, with the baby on his lap. Yes, John had a chair, this was because of the simple fact that in the holidays, he also spent the majority of his spare time around at Sherlock’s. Usually trying to stop him murdering himself, or others during his states of boredom. Or helping him track down other such murderers doing the same.  
Also because Sherlock would have lived quite happily in a flat only containing test tubes and tea, and would have withered away his cases seated on the floor, oblivious to the lack of furniture, and John thought that a least someone in the flat had to take control.  
Sherlock started pacing the width of the room, John’s eyes followed him back and forth and so did the baby’s. The baby kept quiet only turning his face to John’s as if to ask what Sherlock was doing. John gave him a look back as if to say ‘I have no idea what the crazy guy is doing.’  
The baby smiled up at John, who covered his face and then moved his hands away quickly, playing peek-a-boo. The baby loved this and gurgled and clapped his hands, so John did it again, with the same reaction. Sherlock stopped pacing and looked over.

“What are you doing?” 

“Playing Peek-a-boo, he loves it!” 

“That is a completely illogical game. Even the baby isn’t so stupid to not realise that you haven’t disappeared.”

“No. But he likes it anyway... Peek-a-boo!” 

“Absurd.” Sherlock exclaimed sitting down in his chair and staring at the child across from him.

After a while, the baby became bored with the game and started to cry. Sherlock made a look of horror.

“What does it want? Stop it John!” 

“I don’t know! um, baby? What do you want?” Asked John looking flustered.

“He can’t speak John, of course he can’t speak!” 

The wailing got louder. 

“Um, okay. yes, um? Food! Maybe he wants food!”

John quickly got up placing the baby on Sherlock’s lap (much to his annoyance,) and hurried to the kitchen and started to heat up some milk and found an empty water bottle which he washed thoroughly before putting in the milk.  
Suddenly thinking of what Sherlock might be doing, as it was very quiet, he hurried into the living room with the bottle.  
He saw a strange sight. Sherlock, who should have been holding the baby, instead was looking down in fascination at the child-who was on the floor. 

“John Look!” He said gleefully.

“What? Sherlock you were meant to be holding him!” 

“John, he’s crawling.” 

“I can see that.” 

“He’s not meant to.”

“Be crawling?” 

“No!” 

“Why not?’ 

“It’s obvious John. This child must be a genius.” 

“What?” 

“They aren’t meant to crawl until 6 months at the earliest, even that is rare, but at 4 months he is crawling already!” 

“How do you know he is 4 months he could just be-”

“He's four months.” Said Sherlock crouching down to eye level with the child and peering into the boy’s eyes, who stared back.

“Okay, hang on. You don’t know the basics of the solar system and yet why have you memorised the stages of development in a child?” John asked incredulous.

“It is useful. And I just know.”

“Of course you do.” 

“Yes.” Sherlock said, abruptly turning around to John. “We are keeping him.” 

“What?” John exclaimed disbelieving “Sherlock, what do you mean? We are 16! What do you mean we are keeping him?!” 

“We can manage.” 

“No we can’t! What do you mean? We have school!”

“We can take him to school.”

“No we can’t!”

“We can! We can hide him in our dorm room.” He said, now determined to get his own way.

“Sherlock.” John sighed, “Look, I don’t quite understand why you want to keep him, but, but, well- we just can’t.” 

“We can! I want to keep it because it has genius potential and how often does a child show that! I know what will happen! Mycroft will take it away, and give it to some mundane, stupid family who will just fill its head with all sorts of nonsense, and it will turn out like every other idiot on this planet!” 

“Sherlock, it’s- he’s a person! You can barely take care of yourself let alone another person!” 

“That’s why I need you to help me!” Sherlock shouted, just as the doorbell rang-interrupting their argument.  
John ran down and let Mycroft in. 

Mycroft walked up the stairs, his shoes making sharp tapping sounds. His dark suit was impeccable as usual, and his hair was styled into his customary precise and faultless look. As he entered the room, he spotted Sherlock lying on the floor with the baby, and he looked down in distain.

“Oh dear. I should have arrived earlier.” 

“Mycroft. I’m keeping him.” he said indignantly without looking up at his brother.

Mycroft breathed out a long sigh. 

“Yes. I definitely should have arrived earlier.”


	2. "At first the infant"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one for you! I'm going to keep going with the story!!  
> Thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter, it completely made my day/week!! Please keep commenting if you like it because it gives me the motivation to write! Hope you enjoy the chapter!! :)

"Sherl-" Mycroft began

"No. I know we can keep him. He's an unknown, secret baby who isn't on the records, and ultimately does not exist. Am I right?"

"Yes Sherlock, bu-"

"Then we can keep him. I’m sure John and I are capable of looking after a child, Mycroft." He said sarcastically, sending him a glare

"You. Capable of bringing up a child?" Mycroft said with a disbelieving half smile.

"Yes. Of course I can. I'm not an idiot!" Sherlock retorted, continuing to glare at Mycroft, who half closed his eyes, let out a big sigh, and then turned to John.

"How would you feel about this sudden.... How shall we put it....'fatherhood' John?"

Sherlock looked over to John and stared intently, trying to subliminally get him to take his side.

"Mycroft! You can't actually be considering this!" John said ignoring Sherlock's glares directed at him.

"I have little choice in the matter as you well know John." He said looking pointedly at Sherlock.

"But, what? How? I mean, we couldn’t, could we? We have school! We're 16 for Christ's sake!"

"Age is irrelevant John." Sherlock said picking up the child and standing up. His eyes fixed on Mycroft who gave an equally intense look back.

"Sherlock, be serious! Come on, how could we possibly take care of a five month old child wh-"

"Four." Mycroft and Sherlock said simultaneously without breaking their gaze with one another.

"Okay, a four month old child, who needs constant attention!" Said John, feeling like the only rational one in the room, and like he was being blatantly ignored by the brothers.

Sherlock spoke, playing to John's emotional side by flashing him a sad and wounded look. 

"It is possible....You just don't want to."

"Sherlock, come on... You know we couldn't really!" He said, breaking slightly under Sherlock's emotional blackmail, He turned to Mycroft. "We couldn’t, could we?"

“Well. I could arrange things to make it possible. If you have to act like such a child about this Sherlock."

"I am not acting like a child." He said stonily, continuing with their staring game.

"If I must." Mycroft said, sighing again.

"Yes." Sherlock said decisively.

John looked at him for a moment.

"Okay, well, I mean, I guess we-"

Before John had even agreed. Sherlock's face grew into a smug smile, feeling the glory of winning the competition against Mycroft, and he held the baby out at arms length to talk to him.

"You are staying with us now! Whether Uncle Mycroft likes it or not."

"Uncle, dear god." Mycroft said rubbing his head.

"So what do we know about the child Mycroft?" John asked, a little windswept by the rapid decision that had just been made.

"He is the son of two (now) deceased secret service officers who informed nobody of his existence but a select few, meaning that he is not on the records and officially does not exist. The father was on leave when he was shot this afternoon, but no doubt felt a moral obligation towards continuing with the case he was currently working on. The boy is 4 months old, we have no information on his whereabouts for his lifetime, but at birth he was completely healthy, he hasn't been checked since, so his health is unknown at this point."

"Okay good, thanks." John said reaching over to rescue the child from Sherlock who was holding him in a strange position and looked as if he was about to drop him.

Mycroft gave John a nod of acknowledgement and headed for the door. Pausing only for a moment to say one final thing.

"He has no name which we are aware of. Perhaps the parents named him something, but this is unknown. We only know the number he was issued which is '191218'."

Upon saying this, Mycroft left.

John looked at Sherlock.

"Sherlock."

"What?"

"What the hell! Was all that?"

"All what?"

“You know what!”

“No.”

“Sherlock, we have a child now! If you hadn’t noticed!”

“Of course i’ve noticed John. I’m not an idiot.”

Sherlock went to sit in his chair and picked up his phone and started texting. John looked at him narrowing his eyes.

“That was a silly, bloody feud between you and Mycroft!"  Said John, “And now we have a child out of it!”

“Well we can’t give him back.”

“Sherlock!”

“That would mean Mycroft would win.”

“Oh great. Brilliant! Now we are stuck as 16 year old parents because you won’t give in to a stupid, childish argument! Just let Mycroft win for god’s sake!”

“No. I’m sure the child won’t bother me. ‘Parenting.’ It can’t be that hard, most of you idiots in this world do it.”

“Oh for god’s- Look if you want to look after the child, be my guest. I would like to see you try to cope with him! You know, feeding, changing, waking up in the middle of the night...”

Sherlock looked up, suddenly panicked at the reality of the thought of John leaving him alone with the child, believing fully that John would have just helped him willingly. 

“John? But Joh- You can’t actually leave him!”

John put the baby down on the floor and started to head out of the door, talking over his shoulder. 

“Oh, but I thought that if even idiots like me can take care of children so, of course the great Sherlock Holmes can!”

“John, I didn’t mean yo- that- John!” Sherlock jumped up and grabbed his arm as he walked away.

“What? Sherlock. What?” He said angrily shrugging off his hand.

“I need you John.” Sherlock said in a small voice, looking to his feet.

“And...?”

“I’m sorry.” He said even quieter.

“Okay,”

They looked up at each other.  
John was slightly amazed and bemused at actually getting an apology out of Sherlock, usually this was only used if he really wanted something! Maybe he'd panicked him. 'Good.' He thought.

John sighed.

“Sherlock, the baby isn’t an experiment you know."

"John. Think of this instead, as a chance to record a life of another individual, from as early as four months old!"

"He's not going to be an experiment!"

"Think of the medical studies you could build. Universities might be impressed..."

"Not an experiment!"

"He's not- not-  only an experiment!"

"No, he's a real live human child. Not an animal or a pet either. Remember that! Anyway, Sherlock what about school? Have you thought of that?"

"We can manage."

"How?"

"We will have frees at different times we can take care of him then, leave him in our dorm room the other times."

"What if he starts crying when we aren't there?"

"He won't."

"No, he might. What would we do then?"

"He won't."

"Sherlock. I know you feel this sudden need to try and bring up your new child prodigy, and also for you to not have to admit to Mycroft that you can’t do something, god forbid! But I just don't think that this is possible!"

"John do you like the baby?"

"Of course I like the baby, he's one of the cutest I've ever seen!"

"Then what is the problem?"

"There is more to it than that!"

"Bu- Oh. -Do you like me?"

"Oh, don't be a dick! Of course I like you!"

"Then I cannot see a problem!"

John sighed, picking the child up again and hitching him onto his hip as Sherlock continued.

"Of course you would have to live here in the holidays and we would have to have the same dorm room this year, but you barely leave here anyway, it's just a matter of getting you ke- oh- yeah, you already have keys."

"Sherlock you are ignoring the fact that we don't know the first thing about bringing up a child!"

"We can learn."

"All because you don't want to say 'I can't' to your brother."

"And in the name of medical research."

"Mmm."

"Is that a yes?"

"I don't know. You can't leave it all to me you know!"

"I won't!"

"This is crazy you know that?"

"I don't see a relationship between our mental state and bringing up a child?"

"No but this is insane! Am I actually agreeing to this? Why am I agreeing to this?"

"Because I want you to."

"Oh so now I'm doing everything you want then? ...Actually that's not too different to normal."

Sherlock gave a half smile at John, and then sat back in his chair, John put the baby down on the floor, between the two chairs and sat in his own. They both looked down on the child, who looked up with blue eyes back at them. John turned his face up to Sherlock, and spoke.

"Well if we are really doing this... He needs a name."


	3. "If music be the food of love, play on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to all you amazing people who are commenting and reading this story! Love you guys! Here's another chapter for you! :) Enjoy!
> 
> Just to say: The piece of music mentioned at the end I absolutely love! this is the version I listened to whilst writing this chapter (Just ignore the piano ;) ) and the violin is how I imagined it being played in the story :) 
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKd0VII-l3A

The next day John had sent Sherlock out to the shops to buy anything that they needed for the baby, who still had no name. He felt unsure about sending Sherlock out alone, but they couldn’t have taken the baby into a busy shopping centre, and actually managed to get some shopping done without a pram, and they desperately needed some essential items for the baby.  
John had felt that between the options of leaving the child alone for hours with Sherlock, and risk his shopping abnormalities, he would go with the latter.  
Once Sherlock got back, he dumped the bags on the floor and collapsed into his chair. John hearing him come in brought the baby through and put him on the floor, where he gave him the union jack cushion of John’s own chair, for the baby to hug. John looked over at the pile of shopping on the floor, suddenly wary as to what Sherlock had bought, he went over and started to root around in the bags.

“What is...this?” John asked, scrunching up his face in confusion, and pulling something indistinguishable out of the bag. He looked over to Sherlock, who glanced up from the newspaper he was now reading. 

“How am I meant to know?” 

“You bought it!”

“I didn’t look at what it was!”

“Sherlock!.... And what on earth is this one?” He said pulling out an equally as mysterious object.

“I am not an expert in baby objects John.”

“Sherlock! I gave you a list! What happened to ‘buy the things we needed’.... off the list!”

“The things I bought will be necessary.”

“What? This white piece of fabric...stitched into this odd shape? What eve-?” He said holding the material up and trying to make sense of what they would do with it. He shoved in back, and kept looking through the bags and then looked up at Sherlock again, in disbelief. 

“What about baby milk sherlock! You were supposed to get baby milk! The formula stuff”

“He seemed perfectly happy with the tea I gave him this morning.” He said without looking up from his paper.

“Tea?!” You gave the baby tea!” He exclaimed incredulous, his eyes widening. 

“He likes tea.”

“Sher- oh for god’s sake you are useless!” John sighed, and started to put the items strewed around back into the bags. 

Just then, the doorbell rang. John looked toward the door and then back to Sherlock who was unmoving. He grunted and then went to answer it, mumbling about how Sherlock doesn’t even answer the door in his own flat. At the door was a delivery man with several large cardboard boxes and a form and pen. 

“John Watson?” 

“Yes?” John replied slowly, his eyebrows furrowing, questioning how he was getting a delivery at a place he didn’t even live at. 

“Sign here please.” 

John signed on the line. 

“Hang on wait- How-?” but the man was gone already. John looked at the pile of boxes now at his feet.  
After three trips, John had got the boxes up the stairs. Sherlock- only moving to flick his page, did nothing to help. Once finished, John found a knife and then slit open the top box. Inside, it was full of nappies. The second and third contained various other baby things, such as bottles and toys and then the fourth box, which was long and thin, contained a flat pack baby cot. John sighed a sigh of relief. At least Mycroft was much more sensible than his brother. He turned to the useless one in the corner.

“At least your brother understands that a baby has a need for things other than tea and unidentifiable stuff you found in a shop!”

Sherlock looked up, and made a face of disgust at the boxes and then turned back to his paper. John sighed and rubbed his head. 

“Sherlock. You better help me with the baby.”

“I do help.” 

“What? How is reading the paper helping the baby?”

“Does the baby need anything at this moment?”

“Well- No. I guess n-”

“There you go.”

John glared in distain at Sherlock and then sighed again, and looked at the baby assuring himself that he was alright, the baby was very content with just chewing on the cushion. So John picked up his laptop and sat down his his chair, keeping half an eye on the surprisingly well behaved baby.

-

 

That evening, John looked over to Sherlock who was proudly standing by the (now built) cot. He had spent hours creating the item which he had originally deemed to be ‘so simple that the baby could have built it himself.’  
John was thankful that Sherlock had actually done something, he looked over at the cot, and then back at Sherlock then he frowned, his mind thinking. 

“Um, Sherlock?”

“Mmm?” Sherlock mumbled whilst picking up a small screw which he had obviously missed from the cot, and hurriedly putting it in his pocket where John wouldn’t see.

“Where is the cot actually going to go?”

“Well it- It sh-...” Sherlock trailed off, realising that he didn't know the answer. When John stayed over at the flat, he always stayed in what had now become his room. Sherlock of course had his own bedroom, and there was the lounge the kitchen and the bathroom. But that was it. 

“Well he can’t go in my room.” Sherlock said indignantly.

“If he goes in mine, you will never look after him if he wakes up in the night!”

“I would!”

“No you wouldn’t. Anyway you are up half the night usually, why can’t he go into your room?”

“He just can’t. Last night was bad enough. He was in my bed.”

“Well he wouldn’t be in your bed this time.”

“No.”

“Fine.” Where are we going to put him then?”   
“In here. We can both check on him then.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They shifted the cot over to one side of the room and, moved across the sofa slightly to fit it in. Then John picked up the baby, still gripping his union jack cushion, and put him in it. The baby sat and stared up at John. John looked down, he had been half expecting the baby just to fall asleep just because he had been put into a cot, but obviously that was not going to be the case.

“Sherlock. He’s not sleeping, how do we make him sleep?” He asked looking over to Sherlock, who came and joined him by the cot. The pair looked down at him, and then Sherlock, with an idea, went and fetched something from his room.  
He came back in with his violin and started to play a soft and beautiful melody by the baby’s cot. The baby looked up at Sherlock in fascination, his little mouth wide open. John relaxed and sat down in his chair listening as well, marveling at Sherlock’s quick thinking.  
Sherlock was clearly basking in the adoration from the small child, and continued to play gently.  
John watched Sherlock too, listening to his beautiful playing, full of meaning, which looked effortless, but was obviously very complicated. He watched the way his eyes creased in concentration, feeling every note of the song. John shut his eyes, enjoying how the song made him feel, like he was floating and somehow like nothing bad ever would happen again to anyone. Once it was nearing to a close, and Sherlock was ringing out the last notes of the song, John opened his eyes and looked over at the cot, where the baby was now fast asleep, lying against his cushion. He turned to Sherlock who was also looking at the baby with a slight smile in his eyes. John spoke softly as not to wake him.

“That was lovely. What was that?” He smiled softly. 

“Clair de Lune. Debussy.” He looked back at John, a small smile playing on his lips, relishing the commendation of his playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Comment if you've enjoyed it, or any sort of feedback really!! :) Thankyou!!


	4. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyy sorry its been a while since i posted!! ive been ever so busy! :) but anyway here is another chapter!! hope you guys like it! :D

Mycroft placed the piece of paper on the table in front of John.

"You have to fill in this birth certificate, otherwise the child officially does not exist, and this may result in problems for him as he grows up... That's to say if you manage to cope that long with the child." He said, subtly taunting Sherlock without looking at him.

Sherlock glared over angrily from where he was standing, and crossed his arms.

"We will be perfectly able to 'cope', Mycroft." He said defiantly, refusing to be beaten by his brother.

Mycroft continued speaking to John, only acknowledging Sherlock's comment with a slight smirk in the corner of his mouth.

"Fill in the form and I will send someone to collect it once you have finished. I have filled in the date of birth already, and several other small details."

"Okay thanks, we will do that." John said, trying to be friendly and smiling, refusing to partake in the sibling rivalry.

Once Mycroft had left, John sorted out the baby's bottle, making sure to thoroughly clean the bottle, (who knows what Sherlock may have used it for!) he also set about making a cup of tea for himself and Sherlock. Finally, he sat down in his chair and passed across Sherlock the tea, which he started sipping slowly.

"So." He said looking down at the blank form before him. "Name and surname of child. Right. What are we going to name him? Any ideas? Sherlock?"

"Barium."

"No. We are not naming him Barium." He said exasperated, throwing up his hands.

"Barry for short."

"No!.... How about Phillip?"

"No, everyone is called Phillip."

"Fine, something more unusual... Samuel?"

"That's not more unusual. If anything there are even more people with that name. How about Atom?"

"Atom? Sherlock you can't name a baby Atom!"

"Yes you can."

"Well we aren't! How about Rufus?"

"Sounds like a dog's name. Can't we call him John?"

"No. Think of how confusing that would be!... How about Alex?"

"No. Too common. Bunsen?"

"As in Bunsen Burner? Not a chance. What about Jack?"

"No. Hydrogen?"

"Not happening! Billy?"

"No, that sounds like a goat's name. Petri?"

"No. Oliver?"

"No. Ion?"

"Ian?"

"No, Ion."

"No. Definitely not... Charles?"

"Are you trying to suggest the entire royal family? How about Argon?"

"No! We are not calling him after the gas which comes from the Greek word for lazy! Or any other scientific appliance or element for that matter!"

"Fine. How about Albert?"

"After Einstein. Albert Einstein. Lot to live up to don't you think? What if he doesn't like science?"

"He will like science. Of course he will like science."

"Okay, if you say so.... How about Nick?” John asked sighing. 

“Short for Nickel?”

“Well I would say that Nicholas is the more common elongation.” John laughed, bemused. 

Sherlock made a sound of annoyance. “But I quite liked Nick.”

“We are not calling him that with you telling people it is the abbreviation for Nickel! No periodic elements!”

“Fine.” He said, moodily taking a slurp of tea.

“What about James?” John asked after a moment of thought. 

“Don’t like that name.”

“Okay how about naming him after someone?”

“Johann.”

“After....Bach?”

“Yes, Johann Sebastian Bach. Or his student, Johann Tobias Krebs.”

“Don’t like Johann. Too similar to John. Sebastian?”

“No.”

“What about Tobias? I like Tobias.” John said, turning the name over in his mind. 

“It is not a first name.”

“It could be, what’s wrong with it as a first name?”

“It’s not right. Nobody has it as a first name.”

“I’m sure people do- Fine. A middle name then?”

“Yes. That would be... Adequate.”

“So back to the first name.”

“Mendelssohn.”

“What?”

“Felix Mendelssohn.”

“Felix... I like that. Felix.”

“Really? You do?”

“Yes... it has a nice ring to it, fairly unusual too.”

“Yes. Felix.” Sherlock said, trying out the name.

“Felix Tobias Holmes”

“No. Felix Tobias Watson-Holmes.”   
There was a moment of pause.

“We are joining our surnames?” John asked surprised.

“Yes.” Sherlock said as if it was obvious.

“Okay.” John looked up at Sherlock who had got up, and gone over to the baby’s cot. He stood up to join him, and they both looked down on the baby, Sherlock even showing faint hints of fondness on his face.

“Hello Felix.” John said smiling, and for the first time feeling happy with the prospect of him and Sherlock bringing up this child.

He also felt sure now, upon deciding, that this was the right name. Sherlock was happy too, John thought, glancing at him standing next to him. He somehow had got his own way, with the child being named after two composers. John thought that the matter of the surname was strange, he felt that it was bizarre them putting down a double barrelled name, which is usually a mix of the two parents... but somehow it felt and sounded right despite their odd situation.

John went back to the form and sat down at his desk, pulling out a pen. He filled in the name box, and jotted down the date of Felix’s birth on a slip of paper, which he placed in a draw for later reference. He looked over the rest of the sheet, then noticed something.

“Um, Sherlock?”

“Mmm?”

“There is a slot for a mother and one for a father... what do we do with that?”

“Mycroft will sort it. He knows how to change these things. We will both be the chil- Felix’s parents, and his legal guardians.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” John said. The whole thing still feeling to him, like a very... unique situation.

They both looked back to Felix, who was sitting patiently in his cot, waiting to be taken out. John reached in and lifted him out,

“Come on Fee, lets go out.” He said, suddenly excited at the prospect of being able to go out with the child for the first time. Mycroft had delivered around a very expensive looking pram that morning, which meant it would be easy to take him out for a walk now.

“Where are we going?” Sherlock asked, picking up his coat and putting it on.

“I don’t know? Any ideas? I just thought we should. Now we have the pram.” He said excitedly. “Actually, can we go to the shopping centre? I think we need some more baby clothes.”

"Okay."

John rummaged into one of Mycroft’s boxes and found a little hat, Which he placed promptly onto Felix’s head. Despite it being Summer, John was terrified that Felix might get too cold. Once they had maneuvered the pram down the stairs, John carefully placed Felix inside, and tied up the little straps to hold him in. It made him look very small, being enveloped by the big pram, which John looked at (and already thinking like a parent,) thought that it didn't matter because he would grow into it.

They set off down the street, and started walking towards the shopping centre. Sherlock was walking at his normal, long stride, fast paced walk, when he suddenly realised how far behind John was.

“Why- Why are you walking so slowly?” He called back to him.

“I’m enjoying the stroll. Stop walking so fast, you aren't even walking with us. Fee is liking too! Aren’t you?” He looked down and smiled at the baby, who smiled back, mimicking his face. Sherlock scowled, then reluctantly waited for John and walked at the same pace, feeling that every step was taking forever.

Once they finally got to the shopping centre, as they walked through the main square, John started to notice that people were staring at them. They had come a fairly quiet route to get to the centre, and there hadn’t been many people who paid attention to them on the street, but here... Everyone did.

John felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to having this many strange looks, which was saying something, considering that he walks around with Sherlock Holmes, the most publicly ostentatious person he knew! These were different looks though. John could almost read what they were saying from their expressions as they walked by:  
'Gay. Teenage. Too young to be parents. Got a girl knocked up. A disgrace. Shouldn't be allowed.The youth today!'  
John hung his head, feeling their absent, unspoken words affect him. Sherlock who was walking beside him, was completely obliviously to all this, until he suddenly noticed John shying away from the other people.

“John? Wha- What’s wrong?” He looked suddenly concerned, and stopped John from walking forwards any further, by stepping in front of the pram.

“These people. They all are... Judging us! It’s horrible!”

“Judging? What do you mean?” He asked not understanding, and looking around at the faceless crowds in the shopping centre.

“They are all giving us weird looks, like we are freaks!”

“Why?”

“Because we are 16 and we have a baby!”

“How do they know how old we are? They are all idiots! Anyway, you look much older.”

“But also- oh it doesn’t matter...” He said bowing his head down, embarrassed, and trying to walk forwards, but Sherlock was still there, and put his hands on John's shoulders to stop him from moving away.

“What? Tell me.”

"No. It doesn't matter."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Tell me."

“Well, they think that- that... well... we are together." He said, looking cautiously up at Sherlock.

“Oh.” Sherlock said looking slightly taken aback, but then defiant. “Well what is wrong with that?”

“Nothing! Just some people don’t feel comfortable seeing um, gay... um, parents.”

“Well then you shouldn’t care what some people think.”

“I’ll try not to. It's very hard though.”

“They know nothing John. Nothing. Don't pay attention to people like that.”

“Okay.” He said in a small voice and gave a quick smile up to Sherlock, who moved himself away from in front of the pram.  
They carried on walking, and it's not that the people stopped staring, on the contrary, but at every disapproving face John just looked at Sherlock and at Felix, and as they made their way through the people, he started to slowly not care whether anyone else didn’t like it. Or what they might be thinking. He didn't want to make them happy. It was none of their business. He was was happy. That was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas for Thursday! :D and please comment if you liked it! Or want to see anything in the story and i shall do my best :) i love to hear what you think! :) thankyou!!


	5. "For the apparel oft proclaims the man"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been a while guys! Thankyou for all the support your comments mean a lot to me! So keep going with them if you like it! Enjoy!!

John picked up a small pair of blue, denim dungarees and put them in his already growing basket, he had sent Sherlock off in the shop twenty minutes ago to find some pairs of socks for Felix, a seemingly simple task, and he hadn't seen him since. Looking around, slightly concerned, he spotted his friend's tall figure over the other side of the shop, behind an aisle. As he approached him he could see that he also had a basket, a basket independent to John's own basket, which could never be a good sign. As John looked closer, he could see that it was filled to the top with dark looking garments which he couldn't quite identify.

"Sherlock. I thought you were getting socks! What are they?" He asked pointing to the basket.

"Well we’re not dressing him in clothes with giraffes on them!" Sherlock retorted, counter-pointing to John's basket where there was a little blue babygro at the top, with little animals dancing on it.

"Well what do you suggest then? This is what babies wear!"

"I never wore that as a baby."

"How do you know that!"

"I just didn't. I have much more suitable clothes for him to wear." He assured, plucking out of his basket with his long, elegant fingers; a small, dark, well made suit and little shirt on a tiny hanger.

"Sherlock! He's a baby! He can't wear a suit!"

"Yes he can." Sherlock argued, his eyes glaring at John determinedly.

"No he can't! He would never be comfortable! And what's all that other stuff you have there?" He asked, peering into Sherlock's basket once more.

"He will grow quickly, this is a suit for each growth up to the age of 3."

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed incredulous.

"What. He likes suits."

"How d- he's a baby!"

"Doesn't mean he has to dress like one."

"Put them back Sherlock."

"No."

Sherlock glared over at John, who stared back at him as he crossed his arms. They stayed like that unbreaking, almost competing for several minutes, until a woman tried to get past them in the narrow aisle they were now blocking. This snapped them out of it. John sighed and looked to the floor then back up at Sherlock, then rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Get one suit if you really must... one!" Sherlock looked over to him in triumph, a his lips hinting at a smug smile. John continued sighing,  
"If you really want me to, I will get some plainer, 'non animal' things, but only if you come and help me!"

 

-

 

They ending up exiting the shop, with all of Sherlock's suits, and only some of the things which John wanted to buy, (and what the baby actually needed,) all of which subsequently were plain, with not an animal picture in sight.  
'Great' John thought. 'We have about three useful baby gros and an abundance of incredibly useless baby suits.'

They wandered over to the Mothercare shop, John marveling at the many uses for the pram as he started hanging all of their shopping bags onto the handles. As they entered they gazed around them at the quiet shop, which had soft music playing in the background, and heavily pregnant ladies wandering around everywhere on the soft carpeted floor. Feeling slightly out of place with all of the hormonal although currently serene women, John pulled Sherlock over to the toy section. Sherlock looked around the shelves and recoiled in horror.

"Do people give these toys to their children John?!"

"Yeah, aren't they cute!" He cooed smiling, and eyeing up the little pastel animal figures.

"Cute?!" Sherlock exclaimed, picking up a brightly coloured, plastic elephant with hauntingly large eyes. "What purpose do these toys serve? Are they...educational?" He scorned, holding it with the tips of his fingers and away from himself.

"They keep them entertained."

"And children actually entertain themselves with... These?" He tentatively held the toy up.

"Yeah, they are designed for babies." He looked at Sherlock's raised eyebrows and sighed, knowing full well that none of these little farmyard sets or Noah's arks were going to be gracing their flat any time soon. He huffed, and took one last glance at the aisle, as Sherlock threw his elephant into the corner of a shelf, where it made a loud clattering noise, over the gentle shop music.

"Ssh Sherlock!" He complained quietly, embarrassed by his friend. "Okay fine, we will find something different."

They wandered around the shop for a bit, and John found some story books, in which the baby could touch different fabrics as the story went on. John tried to read a little to Felix, but no more than two sentences into it, Sherlock had whisked it out of his hands.

"He- hey! I was reading that to Felix!" He said indignantly

"I will not have you read him that sort of unstructured literary stultiloquence!"

"What? Stulti? Huh? Anyway, it's just a kids book! It's meant to be lik-"

"Stultiloquence... Idiocy, foolishness, nonsense." Sherlock ranted, turning the pages of the book furiously with distain.

"In your opinion! Well what do you propose we read him then?"

"Gray's Anatomy would be a good start, because the founding for medicine could be-"

"You're joking right? Sherlock look, he is a baby! You can't just read him adult books!"

"Yes I can."

"Well you aren't!"

Sherlock just grinned knowing he could quite easily overrule John if he wanted to, and moved to the next aisle, whisking the pram from John's hands and pushing it in front of him, John followed hurriedly behind.

There they found two teddy bears, which John fell in love with and became determined to buy, despite Sherlock declaring loudly that children should not be given ‘such caricatures of life’, and that bears ‘look nothing like these toys and by giving them to children it will make them all the more willing to approach a dangerous animal’, this speech of his, made a woman further down the row give them a strange look, which of course, still didn’t hush Sherlock up. But John insisted on buying them, and so they went to the counter where they joined the back of the queue.  
In front of of them was a heavily pregnant lady, with a toddler on one hip, who looked at the pair strangely as they joined the queue, and kept turning her head back to glance at them, Felix especially. This, John tried to ignore. When the woman was about to leave, John gave a smile to the toddler who had turned around to look at him, John's smile the woman noticed and obviously took as some sort of unspoken attack on her child, and she briskly moved the child's head to face away from him, and walked off protectively cradling her child to her body. John felt hurt by her unjust judgement but he tried to brush it off. Once they got to the front desk, the lady behind the counter started to make conversation as she scanned their items.

"Oh, shopping for the little brother then? How sweet." She leant over and talked to Felix in his pram by the desk. "Are your big brothers taking you out then? Isn't that nice of them!"

Sherlock looked at her in distain and then at John's embarrassed, and crestfallen face.

"No. He's not our brother." He replied forcefully with a stony expression, turning back to the lady. John's face with wide eyes, lifted to look at Sherlock.

"Oh right? Nephew then?" She asked chirpily.

"No. He's our son." Sherlock declared, looking her straight in the eye.

"Oh- real-? oh right..." The woman stuttered, confused, and becoming awkward and flustered. Bowing her head, she quickly finished scanning the items.

After they were out of the shop, John turned to Sherlock.

"You didn't have to do that." He murmured quietly.

"I know I didn't. But you weren't going I correct her." He remarked, matter-of-factly.

"Well I didn't quite know how we'd explain it."

"And you didn't want to be looked at strangely."

"And that."

Sherlock paused for a minute before continuing.  
"He is our son now. That's how to explain it. He's Felix and he's our son."

John looked at Sherlock and then down to Felix and then smiled, he was their son, and that made John happier than he would have ever thought that it would. His smile grew wider the more he thought about it. He felt privileged to be included with Sherlock as a parent of Felix. And as they walked home, he couldn't get Sherlock's phrase out of his head- 'he's our son.' Our son.


	6. "Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed"

John was trying to do his schoolwork which he had not only been putting off, but had barely time to do all Summer. It being the middle of August now, he thought he should probably give it a go. Although flicking through the pages in his Biology book, all the words seemed to blur into one. He was so out of practice with schoolwork and all of the concentration that went with it. He had to admit that he was much better now at changing nappies than memorising trivial biological facts! 

He sighed, it didn't help either, that Sherlock was making loud explosions from the kitchen, dotted with joyful babbled nonsense exclamations from Felix paired with phrases from Sherlock such as "look how the magnesium sulphate reacts now!" And "I wouldn't be eating that Felix... it could possibly be toxic." 

They had been at it all morning, Sherlock said he was- 'founding the child's scientific knowledge to enable him to achieve his academic potential,' but at this age, John guessed that he was probably just making things react in different colours for the child's amusement. At least it kept them occupied even if it did make a lot of noise he thought.  
He attempted to draw out a small diagram of the parts of a knee in his biology book, but had entirely forgotten the names of each of the parts. He should really get Sherlock to help him he thought to himself, shutting his book in defeat. Sherlock no doubt understands all the topics up to and beyond degree level, and thinking about it, he should probably check on the pair. 

John picked up his book and hauled himself up before walking through to the kitchen.  
To say it was a mess in there would be an severe understatement. John didn't think he'd ever seen it look so eclectic, and considering Sherlock had been in the flat for years, that was saying something!  
Felix was propped up in his highchair holding a test tube filled with strange gunky looking green liquid in one hand, and a stopwatch covered in sticky blue stuff in his another. On his face were a pair of tiny goggles which Sherlock had found in a box of things from his own childhood, and John had to admit that they suited him. They were slightly on the large side and so were slipping off his nose in a way John found adorable. On the table there was countless beakers and tubes and Bunsen Burners, all bubbling and creating a huge clouds of smoke and steam in the air.  
Sherlock wore goggles as well which were steamed up so much John couldn't see his eyes. He was handling a small piece of metal with silver tweezers which he was holding over a beaker full of boiling dark liquid.  
John wafted the air around his head to try clear some of the steam, giving a slight cough as he did so. 

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" He questioned, with a gesture to the variety of apparatus around him.

"Felix and I are testing the reaction times of different metals."

"Oh. Okay... wait, is Felix actually timing?" He asked curiously, looking over to the child who was firmly holding the stopwatch with one tiny finger on the start button ready to be pressed down. 

"Yes." Sherlock said proudly, pointing at the baby's hand with the stopwatch in it. "He even understands when to press it. Isn't he clever John!"

"Yes. Wow, that is pretty impressive for a baby to do! Although most babies develop these sort of.. er... skills! After they start to talk..." John retorted, laughing although highly amazed at the baby's comprehension of how to do what he was doing. 'Maybe Sherlock was right about the child being clever!' John thought whilst looking down at Felix.

"He's not most babies!"

"No he's not, I'm sorry." John affirmed grinning and looking back up to Sherlock and catching his eye for a moment, before he continued with the experiment. 

Sherlock placed the metal into the beaker and there was a small explosion and a huge cloud of smoke flew into the air. John started coughing again, and looked at Felix who was gleefully banging his timer against the table of his highchair and giggling extensively. John smiled and decided to leave them to it, giving up for the moment on his schoolwork. He took the book and shoved it away in his schoolbag to do some other time, and then wondering curiously as to the contents, he went over to the boxes which Mycroft had delivered previously, which still weren’t unpacked yet. He rooted around in one of them and pulled out a book. It was a huge book, and was entitled ‘How to care for you and your baby.’ John inquisitively opened it up on the first page and looked down at it. His curiousity deepened and he sat down further into his chair reading it, the details gripping him. Once he was about 40 pages into it, Sherlock stuck his head around from the kitchen and came over to see what John was reading. 

“What- Oh not a baby book! Why are you reading that?” He queried, recoiling with a look of horror. 

John looked up from his page, blinking in trying to adjust to Sherlock from the book.

“It’s interesting! Here get this..." he said reading off from the page. "Apparently a baby isn’t supposed to be crawling until they are 6 or 7 months old! Feli-"

“I could have told you that! You don’t need to be reading that ridiculous book!”

“Why don’t you want me to read the book?” John asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing at his friend whilst looking up at Sherlock’s indignant face.

“They are full of lies and don’t tell you anything.”

“Well how else am I meant to find out about how we should be bringing up Felix?!”

“You don’t. We don’t need to do what everyone else does!”

“No, i’m not saying that we do- look i’m just trying to be a better parent.”  
Sherlock crossed his arms and then after a moments pause, turned round to the direction of the kitchen. 

“They are still stupid books.” Sherlock said over his shoulder whilst walking back into the kitchen.

John spent the next week finishing the book, which gave him all sorts of ideas all which Sherlock ridiculed, Each and every time he was told a new one, he couldn't help but slate whatever John had said. For example, when John went and bought a loud, ticking clock and put it next to Felix’s cot, (because he had read that it stimulated the sound of a Mother’s heartbeat) Sherlock's reply was: ‘or the sound a ticking bomb,' and subsequently the next day in annoyance at the sound, threw the clock out of the window. Where it got run over by a taxi. 

-

A week later John and Sherlock were the most exhausted that they had ever been. For the last week they had spent every single night being woken up at 1 hour, 2 hour intervals throughout. It was apparent to Sherlock that Felix was teething, as he wailed and grasped his mouth and just wanted to bite everything he could find, which meant Sherlock was forbidden by John to put Felix in the kitchen and to keep him away from all toxic materials for the time being, orders which he grumpily was forced to comply with. John's book hadn't been a lot of help, and after attempting many times to put to use the advice from it, only to be put down by Sherlock, he had given up.

The pair collapsed onto the comfy sofa in their living room. They had just managed to get Felix to sleep, despite it being the middle of the day. Sherlock looked over to John who was sleepily shutting his eyes, he nudged him in the side and John rolled his eyes open and looked across to Sherlock moodily. 

"What?"

"You were right." Sherlock announced clearly, whilst shutting his own eyes.

"I was- wait... Say that again!" John grinned suddenly.

"You heard me. I'm not saying it again." Sherlock replied, trying to refrain from smiling. 

"Okay, I did. I was right about what?"

"This isn't as easy as I thought."

John examined his friend's face for any signs of sarcasm but didn't find any. He smiled in contentment, happy at the half compliment which had been paid to him, and shuffled around on the sofa, settling down and getting comfortable, something made all the more easy by his unbelievable tiredness.

"It's only going to get more difficult you know." John reasoned, looking across to Sherlock with a knowing look.

"I know."

"We are not giving him back though. No matter how tough it gets... right?" John quavered, his voice lingering in suspense for the answer.  
Sherlock with his eyes remaining placidly closed replied.

"Well I can hardly let Mycroft win can I?" He opened his eyes and let out a short laugh at John's face of disbelief. He continued, half fearing some sort of attack from John if he didn't.

"And I suppose it's not half bad. Having a child around... Something new."

John looked to Sherlock in mock distain, knowing full well that he was, despite everything, loving having Felix around. Well, most of the time...And as if talking about him had woken him up, that moment a loud wail arose from the other room, and the pair sighed and wearily lifted themselves off of the sofa.


	7. "The law of friendship bids me to conceal."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Here's a slightly longer chapter to make up for it! :) Please leave a comment if you like it!!! enjoy!

"Sherlock!" John shouted through from the other room. "Come here for a second."  
Sherlock stuck his head comically around the kitchen door with Felix in his arms. John gestured for them to come over to where he was sitting at the table.  
"Look I know you don't want to think about it. You made that perfectly clear last time I asked, but it is less than a week left before we are due back to school.... What on earth are we going to do!" John said gesturing towards Felix in a frantic manner who just looked back at him with round eyes and gurgled.  
"I... I am unsure." Sherlock mused, slowly putting Felix onto the floor, where he crawled over to the small xylophone he had in the corner, and started to bang it with the tiny sticks provided.  
"Well I am at a loss! I have no idea how we can manage to take our A-levels, with us also taking care of a child! I mean what are we going to do? We can't actually take him to school and just leave him in our dorm room Sherlock!"  
"No... I am aware of the... difficulties." He agreed, creasing up his eyebrows in thought.  
"So?"  
"So what?"  
"Do you have any ideas?"  
"A nanny?"  
"How would that work! Anyway the head isn't going to allow us to keep him in school!"  
"He might.... For the right price."  
"Oh for g- what so we're going to bribe our head-teacher then are we?!"  
"Mycroft has... connections."  
"Okay... So IF the head allows us (god forbid!) to keep our child in school with us, we still can't make it work! What about during the day? What then?"  
"Nursery."  
"Nursery? Is that even a possibility? Do they take that young?"  
"They will have to." Sherlock declared, pursing his lips together in a tight line.  
"Well what about if they don't? I don't know any nurseries near our school do you? Sherlock it's in the middle of nowhere!" John was getting himself into a state and so took in a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "What other options are there?" He slowly asked, holding his head in his hands.  
"A nanny, like I said."  
"Where would we take him to a nanny?"  
"One in school?"  
"Like... Hire one in?"  
"Yes of course."  
"You come from a seriously different world to me." John exclaimed marvelling at how normal Sherlock seemed to believe the idea was."  
"We could hire one in for us during the hours we have our lessons."  
"Well okay I guess we could... What about matron?"  
"What about her?"  
"Couldn't she take him? I mean sh-"  
"Matron as his nanny! No." Sherlock interjected appalled.  
"Well.... Why not?" John replied utterly confused.  
"She's not going near Felix! She would ruin his potential IQ!"  
John sighed and put his hand back to his head. "Sherlock, are you really going to approve of any of the nannies we ask with that attitude? I mean do they really have to be, I don't know, 'Marie Curie' before they are fit to take care of him?"  
"No of course not. Don't be absurd."  
"Good, well tr-"  
"Marie Curie was slacking in her protection against radiation poisoning, incompetent woman, which lead to her extremely preventable death. She would not get within a mile of Felix!"  
"Sherlock! She was one of the great scientific discoverers! You can't just sa-"  
"The person would need to show potential to increase or no further damage Felix's IQ."  
"Come on Sherlock! I doubt I even fall into a 'clever enough' category for that!"  
"You do!" Sherlock blurted quickly. "Of course you do! You are very... Very clever John! I mean..." He trailed off, regretting his sudden, uncharacteristic outburst. John moved on, trying to relieve the awkward air that suddenly surrounded them.  
"Okay fine. We shall get a nanny."  
"Good." Sherlock said quietly, glad he had changed the subject.  
"Where do we even ask?"  
"I shall ask Mycroft."  
"God is he your solution for everything!" John joked, laughing.  
"No! I don't rely on Mycroft!" Sherlock replied, backtracking rapidly.  
"Mmhm, of course you don't..."  
"I don't! Fine I shall find a nanny myself." He defiantly declared.  
"Okay, you will?"  
"Yes. I shall have this sorted by tomorrow. Without Mycroft's help!"  
"Really? Okay then!" John said looking surprised and vaguely relieved. Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and started tapping away, and went through to the kitchen disappearing from John's view.  
-  
The next morning, John came to outside Sherlock's bedroom with a cup of tea, feeling dubious to whether or not Sherlock would have sorted the 'nanny problem' by now, or whether he had more likely been distracted by some murder in the news or something of the like. John was hoping that he didn't have to worry about the whole situation any longer, although assumed that he would find that he did. He knocked on Sherlock's door. When there was no answer he went inside.  
Sherlock was sitting on his still made bed, with his phone in one hand and the other tapping on the keyboard of his computer hurriedly. John cleared his throat, and Sherlock looked up from the screen his eyes straining and visible tiredness drawn all over his face.  
"Sherlock? Have you been up all night?" John asked, as he looked over his friends face. Suddenly feeling guilty at his own full night of sleep.  
"I don't need sleep." He muttered, returning to his tapping.  
"Yes you do! I didn't mean for you to stay up all night trying to find a nanny! We have still got a week to sort it."  
"I need to find one. Nobody will bloody work for us! We are too young, or it's inconvenient, or I'm 'too rude'! Nobody will do it!"  
"Look, calm down." John reassured, walking over and handing him the cup of tea, which Sherlock took gladly from him, cradling it in both hands. "You just need to think about it. Have you rung all the people from the agencies?"  
Sherlock nodded and ran his hand through his unruly hair.  
"Don't we know anyone who could do it?" John continued. "Hang on... What about a friend? Someone at school who takes different subjects to us? Couldn't they look after him?"  
"A friend?... Who?"  
"Come on I'm sure there are plenty of people! Like, um... Oh! What about Molly? She could do it!"  
"Molly?"  
"Just for the time being!"  
"Molly."  
"She could look after him for us just as a favour for the start of term, that will give us some more time to think of something permanent."  
"Yes... I think that would be okay. Molly? Yes."  
"Good! Right I shall call her and ask her... Wait, how about I invite her around? We could introduce her to Felix? And then ask her then?"  
"Yes. Fine. Good." Sherlock mused slowly, shutting the lid of his laptop and slurping his tea, giving a sidelong glance over to John. Bemused that he had figured out the problem so quickly, definitely not going to ruin Felix's potential IQ he thought, smirking to himself.  
"So I shall call Molly, and you call Mycroft and get him to get us permission somehow to keep Felix in school an-"  
"No."  
"What?"  
"I'm not calling Mycroft."  
"What! But we need permission to-"  
"No. I will not ask for his help."  
"Oh I didn't mean to start- We can't just keep him in our dorm room without the school knowing!"  
"Why not?"  
"Cause we just can't Sherlock!"  
"Yes we can. It will be fine."  
"Oh for god's sake! I am going to call up Mycroft!"  
"No!"  
"Either I do or you do!"  
"No. Or I will... I will... tell your parents where you really are!" Sherlock declared triumphantly, looking smug.  
"You wouldn't!"  
"I would." He mused, grinning whilst he traced round the edge of his mug with one long finger, before looking up at John who he could see was desperately trying to find a way around his threat.  
"Fine. We won't ask the school. For now!" responded John, annoyed with his friend an drawing his mouth into a thin line.  
"Good."  
"I shall go ring Molly then."  
"Fine."  
John left the room, and went into the living room and picked up Felix from his cot, and put him playing with his building blocks he had on the floor. He was irritated with Sherlock, he had threatened him with something Sherlock knew that John couldn't compete with. His parents. They thought he had been spending the summer at a Holiday Adventure Camp, which would go towards his DofE award, which in truth, he wasn't even getting!  
John knew that they would never have let him stay at Sherlock's for the entire holidays like he had done, and also he was terrified of what they would say about Felix. Him and his parents often didn't see eye to eye. They never had, they always preferred the more structured life, and wanted John to be as academic as possible. They certainly would not approve of this, what his father would call 'distraction!'  
In John's mind, the longer they didn't know about Felix, the better!  
-  
An hour later, Molly climbed up the steps to the flat and was met at the top by John, whose mouth was straining into an awkward smile.  
"Hello! Come in!" John sang cheerfully, suddenly nervous as to what Molly would make of the whole situation.  
"Hi John." She creased up her face. "Why are you at Sherlock's flat? You, you were kinda mysterious on the phone? What is going on?"  
"Oh yeah I'm kind of living here now... It's all, I shall explain." John stuttered, his smile faltering slightly.  
"Oh okay. Sure." Molly assured, stepping into the living room, where John gestured for her to have a seat on the sofa. He had hastily moved the baby toys into the box and half hidden the cot behind some more boxes, as not to freak her out immediately. He hovered nervously in the doorway.  
"Tea? Coffee?" He asked with another apprehensive smile.  
"John. What is going on? You are behaving really strangely." She asked, narrowing her eyes at his dithering and strange facial expression.  
"Oh. Just... just wait there. I shall explain."  
He disappeared for a minute, and then was back and sat down by Molly.  
"Okay." He breathed out, not knowing why he was so nervous. "This is going to seem pretty strange. But... Well, Sherlock and I.... Sherlock and I... have... Um-"  
Molly gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "You're together!" She interrupted quickly.  
"No... We aren't."  
"Oh! I just thought...with the moving in together... And the...um sorry, okay go on." Molly went very red and bowed her head, embarrassed by her assumptions.  
"Well, we um, have sort of obtained a child." He blurted, speaking very quickly.  
"What? What do you mean you have 'obtained' a child? ...You kidnapped a child!" Her eyes widened in horror.  
"No! No. We just have got a child now."  
"What? Together? So you are together then!"  
"No. We aren't together, but we have the child together... It's complicated!" He sighed out.  
"Okay... So you have a child. How? Where did it come from?"  
"Him! It's a him, it's um, Felix. His name is Felix."  
"Felix. Nice name. But where did he come from?"  
"We were given him...Sort of."  
"Sort of?"  
"A man died and kind of left him in our care..."  
"Okay. So... Wow, right so you actually have a child?"  
"Yepp. We do."  
"Sherlock has a child." She tried to stop herself from laughing by putting her hand up to her already smiling mouth.  
"Sorry, I just, him as a father... Sorry. So um How long have you had him for? The um, child I mean."  
"About a month now. And Sherlock is actually great... Like he sees him as a child prodigy or something... Do you... Do you want to meet him?" He said nervously wringing his hands.  
"Yeah, that would be nice, okay." Molly said a little dazed by this unexpected news, not having fully taken it in yet.  
"Sherlock!" John called sharply into the other room. A few seconds later, Sherlock walked in carrying Felix proudly.  
"Hello Molly, this is Felix. Felix this is Molly." He introduced, Making gestures from each person to the other. Molly's face broke into a smile.  
"He is the most adorable child!" She exclaimed, "he looks just like Sherlock!" She looked surprised, and glanced between Sherlock and the baby.  
"Well, yeah he does, but um, no relation unbelievably!" John quipped, grinning at Molly's reaction to Felix.  
"How old is he?" She asked.  
"Five months and eleven days old." Sherlock declared looking down proudly at Felix in his arms, he then looked at Molly and quickly placed Felix into her lap to see how she would react. She just grinned and turned him to face her.  
"Hello Felix, I am Molly, very pleased to meet you." She stuck out her hand, and was astonished to see Felix grasp it with his little fingers and try to shake it. She looked up to Sherlock, who looked pleased and said.  
"I taught him that."  
-  
For the next hour Molly played a little with Felix, as they explained to her any questions she had about him, and then she suddenly thought.  
"Hang on? What are you going to do with him once we go back to school?"  
"Ah. Well that's what we were going to talk to you about." Hinted John, skirting around the question.  
"We want you to look after him when we are in lessons and you aren't." Sherlock declared, getting to the point immediately.  
"Oh... Well so are you just going to keep him in your dorm room? I'm amazed you managed to get the school to give you permission t-"  
"We didn't." Sherlock interrupted.  
"Oh so you're just-"  
"Keeping him in our dorm room-" John continued.  
"Yes. Will you?" Sherlock queried impatiently.  
"Look after him when we can't during lessons?" John finished off.  
"Right well, I'm not...-"  
"Just as a temporary measure! To help us out." John added worriedly.  
"Yes okay then. Yes." Molly confirmed, making up her mind.  
"Really? Thank you ever such a lot!" John gushed, suddenly beaming and relived that most of it was worked out.  
"I believe I ought to give you my gratitude also Molly.... Thank you." Sherlock inputted stiltedly.  
"That's okay." Molly muttered, slightly taken aback at being thanked by Sherlock, although the whole afternoon had been surprising! Although Sherlock's new found politeness didn't last for long, a few seconds later he was back to his old self again.  
"Well that's all, goodbye Molly. See you at school." He insisted. ushering her out of the door and firmly shutting it behind her.


	8. "God has given you one face, and you make yourself another."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a bit of a while! Here is an extra extra long chapter to make up for it! :) I got a little carried away should have split into two but It all goes too well together for that! Please comment! Enjoy!!! :)

John smiled into the camera, whilst Sherlock took a very wonky looking picture. The pair were out taking mock pictures for John's 'DofE adventure camp' that he supposedly had been at for the entire summer. He was going to visit his parents later on that day, and he had to give them convincing tales of his 'summer away' so they wouldn't suspect anything, which unfortunately included pictures of him.  
John and Sherlock had gone to the nearest forest just outside of London for the morning, to take some pictures of John, supposedly at his 'camp.' John posed in front of a tree with some rope tied around his middle and his hand on the tree, perhaps just come down from climbing it. He stood with a grin next to a fire he had built, proudly holding up a match. Him and Sherlock found a small stream, and John waded into it, his trousers rolled up past his knees, and Sherlock snapped a series of shots of him 'looking for water creatures.' The pair managed to commandeer a bow and arrow from a hut they found and took some pictures of John on his 'archery training,' as well as some by the 'weapons centre.'

Once they felt they had enough to sufficiently convince John's parents of his whereabouts for the last month, they headed back to the flat. Felix had been with them in his pram for the duration of the photo-shoot, and despite loving and clapping in amusement at seeing John and Sherlock messing about at first, was getting rather tired and kept yawning as they made their way back on the tube.

John was dreading going back home that afternoon. Although he was only going back really to get his school things, and had managed to convince his parents that he needed to stay around a friend's house that night, because they were going to giving him a lift back to school, he still had to go and make small talk all afternoon and tell them about his summer, all which he would have to elaborately make up. He sighed and hoped the day would go by quickly.

Sherlock kept glancing at John on the way home in the taxi. They were going home for about an hour before John had to go to his parents house, and Sherlock could tell that he wasn't looking forward to it. He could read the worry in his friend's furrowed eyebrows, and his slightly hunched posture, and the way John kept in looking out of the window. Sherlock looked over at the sleeping Felix in his pram, and then back to John, anxious himself for his friend.

Once they were back home, John set about printing the pictures they had taken, and he started to have fun going through them all on the computer, as not all of the photos were ones he would be showing his parents! He found some of him and Felix which Sherlock had insisted 'the light was perfect' for taking, and John had to admit he was right, it looked a very pretty, pale yellow and was streaming through the trees onto their faces, and Felix looked so small and cute in John's arms that it made up for the (again) wonky angle.

There was another where Sherlock had obviously not realised he was taking and was a sideways shot of the edge of his face, and from the look on it, John could tell that he was obviously getting very frustrated with the camera's many variety of buttons. There were several of Sherlock alone, which John had insisted on taking as he had declared that they can't all be of him, and had managed to take a few of Sherlock looking very moodily at him into the camera, with his eyebrows raised in half distain, which made John laugh when looking back through them.

But out of all the photos that they had taken, there was a series which was definitely John's favourite. They had found a low branch in the forest which John had balanced the camera on. He had then put on the self timer of the camera and had got it to take a sequence of pictures. All the pictures were of him and Sherlock, both holding Felix in their arms and looking towards the camera. The expressions on their faces changed as the sequence went on, from Sherlock being surly, and John smiling falsely (as in all the ones took for his parents.) The pictures then went on to see John nudge Sherlock in the side to try to get him to smile. The last picture was by far the best one. John leant in for a closer look at it. John had obviously just nudged Sherlock but had continued to look at the camera, and was now grinning what John noticed to be a more genuine smile. Felix in between the pair was smiling at the camera as well, and had his little hands in the air in glee. Sherlock however was the only one not looking at the camera, but instead was looking over at John, his face in a curious expression, a mixture of the clearly happy and rare smile which he wore on his face, and something else John couldn't identify.

He printed out the photo along with all of the others, and like the others, on nice photo paper so it came out looking glossy. This one he separated from the pile of his 'holiday' and took them all into the kitchen where Sherlock was with Felix, and just preparing his milk for him.

"Sherlock. Look I've printed out the pictures." He sat down at the table, where Sherlock joined him to look at them.

"Let me see." He asked and John handed them over.  
Sherlock flicked through them, looking at the details and them handed them back, his eyebrows raised.

"Those will convince them?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Absurdly easy to convince."

"Anyway, look I printed out another as well, I really like this photo." He praised, handing it over.  
Sherlock looked at it and an odd expression came over his face, similar to the one he was wearing in the photo. He looked what John thought to be a mixture between happy and taken aback.

"We look like..."

"What?"

"A family. We look like a family." Sherlock whispered, raising his head to look at John, who could see that his bright blue eyes were shining with happiness.

"Yeah, we do." John replied, smiling softly back at him, and then looking again down at the photograph.

-

After an hour of lazily drinking tea, whilst Felix slept, John set off for his parents house, armed with his pile of photographs, a mournful attitude, and a slightly tanned looking face... from the fake tan which Sherlock had just managed to persuade John was a 'good idea' to use on his face and arms.

John realised once he had looked in the mirror at the appalling looking 'tan' on his face, that it had been an appalling idea in the first place, that Sherlock knew nothing of what he was talking about, and so John had tried to wash his face to get it off, but a considerable amount wouldn't come off, and had tinged his skin a sort of dirty brown, which John hoped to look convincing enough to be a real tan, but wasn't really sure if he could rely on Sherlock's hurried affirmations and nodding that it did as he walked out the door.

He sat on the tube, which was reasonably empty on this line, although would get less so once he changed onto the Victoria Line in a couple of moments. Getting slightly hot, he took off his jacket where he was wearing a short sleeved shirt underneath, he looked down at his arms in horror. He had forgotten he had put the fake tan on his arms as well, and it was streaked in a patchy mess across his forearms. John hurriedly put his jacket back on and cursed himself for being so stupid to think he could just stick fake tan on and look like he had a real tan. Why had he listened to Sherlock? He suddenly realised that he would not be able to take his jacket off for the rest of the afternoon, which made him groan and regret the fake tan even more. He only thanked his luck that he had got on a dark shirt and jacket and so if it rubbed off, it at least wouldn't be visible on his clothes.

John walked up the street and looked at his small, detached house. His parents house. It didn't feel like he lived there or had ever lived there. They had moved there when he was 12 and he went of to boarding school the next year, and had barely seen the inside of the house since. And when they weren't on their horrible, rainy, family trips down in Cornwall, he came home for the holidays.  
Not that he could call this house home, as there were no memories for him inside this house, which supposedly was his house as well. He felt more at home in his dorm at school. Or more recently, at Sherlock's flat. He rang the doorbell and hoped that the rest of the day would all go by quickly.

"John! Hi, come in come in!" His mother squealed as she answered the door.

"Hi Mum." John replied, pasting a smile on his face and following her inside.

The house was extremely neat, and everything seemed to have its place somewhere, despite there not being a large excess of stuff, and the things not of excellent quality or high cost, and everything having a misshapen feel to it. He came through into the lounge where his father was sitting on his armchair, looking like he hadn't moved in a week. He didn't turn his head when John entered, but kept flicking through the TV channels with the remote in his hand.

"Nick. Nick really, turn that off! Look John's home!" John's mother said exasperated. His father pulled his eyes away from the television and grunted and nodded towards John and then pressed the off switch on the remote. He looked John up and down and then through the awkward silence he spoke.

"Well son, bloody well sit down won't you! You look like you're about to leave again any minute!"

John hurriedly sat down and dropped his bag beside him and his mother sat down next to him on the sofa.

"So John, let's hear about your holiday! It's been so long!" She asked, giving him a hug, and smiling so much her face started to look strange. John relayed the events of his summer to his parents, thinking back to when him and Sherlock had practiced his anecdotes back at the flat. He told them of the stories of the archery lessons, the hiking up mountains, all things which corresponded with the pictures he had.

"Actually, I have some pictures. Would you like to see?" John informed them hesitantly, looking at the faces of his parents. He could tell that his father had had enough of his tales and just wanted to get back to the TV he was missing, but his mother was convinced they needed to bond as a family in the few hours that they had together, and enthusiastically encouraged him to get the pictures out. She flicked though them excitedly.

"Wow, so that was when you went to the archery centre then? Look at that Nick." She marvelled, handing the photo over. "How exciting!"

Once they had finished looking over the photos John helped his mother make the dinner and he set the table. They were just sitting down to eat when the doorbell rang out.

"Oh that will be Harry, get the door would you John." His mother asked.

John suddenly had the first genuine smile on his face that evening as he leapt to his feet. He wanted to see Harry the most out of all of his family. He loved his sister to bits and she had always been there for him, and never failed to relieve the awkwardness between him and his parents, and to serve as a bridge between them. As soon as Harry saw John, her smile reached into a big grin.

"Hey little bro! How've you been?" She said enveloping him in a big hug.

"Hey Harry. I'm glad you're here I have to say."

She moved him back so she could look at him, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

"Have they been being awkward? Mum's been being over enthusiastic about everything, hasn't she." She stated.

"Yeah, just a little bit..." John trailed off, glad that she understood how he felt so well.

"Ignore it, I'm here now!" She grinned and hung her coat up and shut the door. "Oh yeah how was that DofE thingy you have been on?" She asked as they started to go through to the kitchen.

"Oh yeah, um fine," John mumbled, feeling bad about lying to her.

Harry collapsed into a chair at the table, she started to eat the food which was in front of her.  
"Crap day at work!" She said, putting a mouthful of food in her mouth and sighing.

"Harriet. Language." Her mother interjected curtly.

"Sorry ma!" She grinned, knowing her mother hated to be called that, but compensating for her calling her Harriet.  
John relaxed, absolutely loving Harry for breaking up the awkward dinner they had been about to endure.

Once they had finished their dinner, John grabbed his bag and went upstairs to his room, and everyone else set about doing their own things. He walked into his room and looked around at the sparse items that covered it. After shoving what he could into his bag, it looked even emptier. There was just a few things dotted around, a few clothes that were too small for him, and a couple of boxes of his old things from when he was younger in the corner which hadn't ever been unpacked since they had moved there. He sat on his bed and looked at his watch. He could hardly leave so early, but a thought came across his mind. Five O'clock. Felix will be having his milk around now. He thought sadly back to his sister and then again felt guilty about lying to her, and he knew he could trust her, so he went out of his room and knocked on his sister's door.  
"Come in" was her muffled reply.

He went in to a strange sight. His sister was lying on the floor on her back in a strange position with her foot by her face. She looked around when she heard John enter.

"What on earth are you doing?" He asked laughing.

"I'm just, I had something on my foot and I was getting it off and I fell over..." She responded, moving up into a sitting position.  
John just stood their grinning at his sister's absurdities for a minute, before realising she was waiting for him to say something. She looked at him expectantly.

"Oh right, yeah can I talk to about something?" John asked tentatively.

"Yeah sure, course you can." She smiled and gestured for him to sit on her bed in the corner of the room, which he came in and did so.

"So...?" Harry asked, once John was seated, turning and giving him her full attention.

"Okay well, you know you asked earlier about the DofE thing?"

"Yeah, the thing you've been doing this summer."

"Well um, I am, have..-"

"You can tell me John? What is it?"

He took in a breath and continued.  
"Well I wasn't entirely truthful... I haven't been at a camp for the summer. I've been um, staying with a friend-"

"Ooh, look at you lying to mum and dad! Proper teenager you're becoming! You rascal! What have you been up to then?" She joked, punching him in the arm and grinning, which made him smile too.

"No... It's not quite like that... As I said, well this friend and I have-"

"A girl?"

"No! No. Not a girl, a friend from school."

"Oh, right. Go on then."

"Well we have been um, looking after, um." He looked at Harry and then knew he didn't want to lie at all to her, so he just said it how it was.  
"We've adopted a child."

Harry's mouth dropped open.  
"You've, you've... Adopted...?"

"A child, yes." He looked her straight in the eyes.

"With your... "Friend"..." She mimed the quotation marks in the air, and raised one eyebrow at him.

"No! It's not like that, we have just done it as friends. Nothing like- we're not... Not like that."

"Okay, right..." She winked at him and then shook her head and laughed. "You've totally surprised me there Johnny boy! Did not expect that!"

"Well. Yeah, I just didn't want to lie to you. I hoped you wouldn't care-" He looked so sad Harry felt sorry for him and she stood up and pulled him into a big hug.

"Come here! Of course I don't care! I'm glad you told me!"

"Really? I just wasn't-"

"I don't care John! I'm just curious as to why?"

"Well we were given him, and now we have gotten attached and um, well he's so lovely and the most beautiful baby ever, and um we just couldn't give him to the authorities and he, he-his name is Felix." John blurted, letting it all out.

"Felix. Lovely. How long have you had him for?"

"Just over a month now." He answered, smiling at just simply the thought of Felix.

"Aw you're grinning! Wait a sec... so what are you doing about school tomorrow?" She asked curious.

"We are taking him, we've, we've sorted it." He smiled at her. "Oh, just don't say anything to our parents, please. They can't know, they just wouldn't understand-"

"As if I would tell them!"

"I know, I was just saying."

"Come on, let's go downstairs, I think mum just shouted us down."

They went downstairs, stopping for a moment for John to take his bag from his room, which he put by the front door on the way into the lounge. Their mum, got them to sit down with them on the sofa to watch some television. After a little bit of time, John took off his jacket, forgetting about the tan disaster, until his mother called out, and made everyone else turn around as well.

"John! What on earth has happened to your arms?"

He looked down in horror, his mind searching for a reasonable explanation.

"I, um, I..."

Harry laughed loudly and interrupted him, seeing him struggling.

"He was just showing me, isn't it funny! It was some girl at his camp, she dared him to put some fake tan on them and now it won't come off! I think it's hilarious!" She saved him in such a fluent manner that it completely convinced both his mother and his father.

"Oh really John. You shouldn't let people do that." His mother scolded gently.

"A girl. John, that's my lad, who is she?" For the first time, taking his attention away from the television, and putting it fully onto his son.

"Oh, well she's um, just a girl who was on the same course as me."

"Well. What's she like? Are you two dating yet?"

"Um, no we're not-"

"Why? Haven't you asked her?"

"Well I'm just not interested in-"

"In girls? Aha!" He started a hearty, derisive laugh. "Of course you are. Just need to go for it John. She's not going to wait forever. Girls need to be asked out."

"Yeah, they do. I guess they...do." He mumbled.

"So?"

"So what Dad?"

"Are you going to take her out?"

"Yeah, I guess I mig-"

"Never mind you 'might'. You will."

"Yes. Okay Dad. I will."

"Good. Confidence. Girls want someone confident, they want you to ask them. I expect to meet this girl next time I see you."

"Yes, Dad, okay." He paused, looking towards Harry who he could see was trying to stifle a laugh whilst half watching the TV. "Mum. Um, I've got to go now."

"What? No Johnny you must stay the night!"  
John sighed and put his hand to his head.

"Mum, I said before. I have to go to my friend's so I can get a lift back to school tomorrow. I dropped most of my stuff back at his house on the way here. I have to go there. It's all arranged."

"Oh. Well. John you don't have to go yet do you?" She asked looking sad.

"Yeah, I'm sorry but I do." He apologised, looking at his watch, which read 8:20pm. He felt a little sorry for his mother, but he wanted to get back, and he also wanted to escape any more awkward questions from his father. He stood up and then went over to his mother who also stood up. He said goodbye to his mother and gave her a hug with the earnest promise to see her at the next holidays. He said a stilted goodbye to his father, and then Harry walked him to the front door.

"Thanks for that. Really, I appreciate it. I was stuck there!" He murmured, looking over at Harry.

"Aha, don't worry about it!" She replied, and then lowered her voice. "Why do you have fake tan on your arms really?" She let out a small laugh.

"Oh, well I kind of thought it might convince them more if I looked tanned. But I didn't think It through...anyway, goodbye Harry. Thank you." He beamed, putting his jacket on and going to open the door.

"Yeah, like I said. No problem. Um, maybe I could come up and see Felix sometime? When you're at school?"

"Yeah! I would love that! And I'm sure Sherlock would too!"

"Ooh Sherlock... Is that your 'friend'?"

"Yes. He is. My friend." John confirmed, smiling. I'll text you then." He said, and after one last hug, he left.

He texted Sherlock on the tube to tell him he was coming back and was amused at the reply.

"Crime scene do not disturb. There is too much packing for school happening here right now."

And then another shortly after, before it elapsed into a conversation:

"I was making a joke. Stupid attempt. Come home please. I can't decide what we are taking."

Then another.  
"Are you home yet?"

"No, Sherlock, I'm getting on the Victoria line now."

"Come quickly."

"Why?! What's wrong?"

"I can't decide, do we take the winter uniform or not? I can't remember and Felix isn't being very helpful."

"Oh for god's sake! I thought something was wrong! And yes, we do need the winter uniform."

"Are you back yet?"

"Clearly I'm not! :) "

"Hurry up."

"I cannot speed up the tube Sherlock!"

"You could If you wanted to."

"How!?"

"Go into the drivers carriage, there is a lever where you can override the main settings for speed, which is underneath the main desk. After that the rest is simple. Follow the dials on the left hand side of the board."

"Okay I didn't mean literally how!" "Wait. How do you even know that Sherlock!"

"It's useful."

"In what situation!"

"For speeding up the tube."

"Right, well I'm not on the tube any more anyway, so I won't be speeding it up! :) 5 minutes away."

There were no more texts from Sherlock after that, and when John walked into the flat everything was surprisingly quiet. He went through into their living room, where Sherlock was sitting waiting for him on his chair reading a newspaper, and he looked up as John came in.

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Where's Felix-"

"Asleep."

"Oh right? Real?- Where is-"

"In my room. He, fell asleep on my bed so I just left him."

"Oh. Well that's goo-"

"Tea?" Sherlock asked, holding up a steaming mug for John, which he hadn't noticed had been sitting on the table.

"Yeah. Wow, thanks." He exclaimed, sitting down on his chair.

There was a pause before.

"How was it?"

"Mmm, could have been better... Could have been worse."

"That's... Good?"

"Yeah, it is. Although I have to bring a girl back to meet my father next time I go."

"A... A girl? Why? What girl?" Sherlock rapidly questioned his eyes strangely wide.

"Oh it was just a girl, who I met at camp and then now have agreed to ask out, and bring home to meet him, and if my father has anything to do with it... Probably marry as well!" He said sarcastically.

"You have to bring home an imaginary girl?" Sherlock said, the corner of his mouth now toying with a smile.

"Oh course! To go along with the imaginary camp I went to! ... I told my sister."

"About Felix?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to lie to her."

"What did she say?"

"She wants to meet him, she loves it though!"

"What?"

"She said that it is cool that we have a child."

"And she won't tell your parents?"

"No, she won't. She would never do something like that. She understands."

There was another pause in the conversation.

"So how are you going to produce this imaginary girl then?"

They both started to laugh at the absurdity of everything.

"Come on, we've got to pack." John reminded, and they both got up and went through to the other room, being careful not to wake Felix.


	9. "Travellers must be content."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou yet again for your splendid an amazing comments! I love the fact people are reading my writing! It fills me with such inexorable joy! And I adore to hear what you guys think so I really really do appreciate all your comments! :) Been away for a while so I do apologise for the slight delay in updating! But anyway, here it is! Enjoyyyyy! :)

Finally they had managed to gather all their school things together, and the next morning, Sherlock sent for a delivery car to pick their cases and the pram which was folded into a non distinct black bag with instructions to deliver their luggage to the school later on, and so they just had their overnight bags with them. The lack of the pram, left them to carry Felix around with them in a baby sling John had insisted on buying and was coming in handy pretty often! They put it around John's front, as Sherlock refused to carry anything except his own bag. Although as they got onto the Bakerloo Line on the underground, Sherlock surprised John by protectively elbowing past people to get on first and give John a seat, despite them being on the train for a short time. Once seated,  
John moved a loose curl out of Felix's eyes and then absentmindedly played with a strand of The baby's hair, wrapping the little curl round and round his finger. Sherlock stood in front of them, tapping his foot in impatience of the what he deemed to be slow speed of the train. At Euston they jumped off and climbed up the numerous stairs and escalators to the top, coming out at the bustling, crowded station. Felix looked around him with wide eyes, taking in all the lights and people everywhere, who were all crammed into the gigantic station, the majority of which, were standing by the huge lit up departure board, looking up and holding their positions. Until all of a sudden an influx of people rushed towards the same direction as their gate was announced, all running with a direct force that practically knocked over anyone who happened to be in their path at the time. When the surge had moved on, and the crowd sufficiently thinned out, Sherlock walked forward, keeping one hand on John's arm to not lose him amongst the people. He looked up at the board and amongst the orange-lit writing he found their train and then with one movement gripped John's arm and pulled him through the people towards a gate, before John had even had a chance to note the time.

The pair ran, John holding Felix to him tightly as Sherlock (being the faster of the two) was practically dragging John behind him. They just made the train a few seconds before the doors closed and as they did, the pair paused for a second, breathing in a sigh of relief. Haphazardly making their way through the carriage, they got plenty of stares from the people curious at the latecomers. At last they found a couple of seats in the last carriage and sat down to prepare for the long journey.

As the train travelled cross-country John looked out of the window at the already turning brown with the Autumn English countryside which was whizzing past them. Felix sitting on John's lap had his little hand on the window and was staring out with his eyes round and darting about at all the interesting things which were going by. Looking over at Sherlock, John smiled because his friend had fallen asleep and had his head lolled back onto John's shoulder, with his mouth pursed shut and his knees pulled up to his chest, and John thought that he looked just like a little animal curled up next to him. John relaxed and looked over his friend's familiar face and how much like a child he looked when he was asleep, his hair around his face in an unruly mass, curls falling over his peaceful face. One in particular was over his eye and although they were all messy, seemed to be out of place to all of the others, John instinctively leaned over and gently picked it up and moved it out of his eyes, holding the curl that second too long before letting it bounce back into place.

-

Once they pulled up at the small station, John pulled Sherlock off the train where he stood looking around him, blinking in the bright light which was seemingly harsh on his eyes due to him having just awoken. As the train pulled away, they were left on the small and empty platform. They had chosen to come on a train much earlier than the ones which people from their school usually get to transport themselves to school, as a precaution against anyone they might know seeing them with Felix. Sherlock looked around him in bewilderment and then got on a bench and looked around again.

"Um, Sherlock- what are you doing?" John asked in amusement.

"I- I don't know- know where we are." He admitted, scrunching up his face with confusion.

"You've taken the train to school before though Sherlock? I mean- haven't you?"

Sherlock got down from the bench shaking his head. "No. Mycroft's car has always taken me."

"So you've not even got it once?"

Sherlock just continued to look around, his frustration growing at the minimal signs around the station. John feeling sorry for his friend's obvious distress at the lack of familiarity started walking to the way out.

"Sherlock, it's this way."

Sherlock followed him dutifully out of the station and onto the little country road which stretched before them into the distance.

"We have to walk?" He asked grumpily.

"Yepp, we do."

"Fine."

They started walking towards the school in the way which John knew well by now, the countryside was empty and continued all around them for miles, the sky was a light blue and completely clear, resulting in the cold that surrounded them as they walked. Some of the trees were beginning to lose their leaves and others looked still as green and as fresh as they had since the start of the spring that year. John breathed in the fresh air and could smell the pine trees which lay a little ahead, as well as the smell of all the Summer flowers which still remained in the edges of fields which were ready to be harvested soon. They walked away from the path and into a wooded area that John knew would end up close to the school. The trees reached high above them into the crowd of leaves, and birds which chirped happily hid between the branches that surrounded them.

John felt good to be out of London and the London air which was always filled with car fumes and the sounds of people everywhere, and although he did love London it was always a nice change to have the stillness of the countryside surrounding them instead.  
He breathed in the lovely smell of morning dew with an icy edge to it, along with the smell of the trees and the wood which surrounded them.  
As they walked over a small hill, John could see the school building just encroaching into their sight, and once they had crossed over the small stream, via the precarious wooden bridge which lay over it, they ended up on the far side of the school grounds.

"Here we are then."

Sherlock said nothing but just glanced back the way they had come and then at the school again, before furrowing his eyebrows confusedly.

"I can't believe that you have been at this school for three years already and you've never come this way!" John stated, as he started to walk towards the school with Sherlock traipsing behind, who just made a grunt in reply and pulled his bag further onto his shoulder.  
As they neared the buildings, they realised they needed some sort of plan to get Felix into the school without being seen.

"So, one of us needs to go collect the dorm key from matron." John stated, knowing they would be in the same dorm from sending the school their pairs request email during the holidays, confirming the shared dorm.

"You get it, I'll take Felix."

"Okay, but you mustn't let anyone see him Sherlock... Sherlock?"

"Mmm... yes."

"Did you hear me?"

"Mm don't let anyone see him....I will wait in the orchard whilst you get the key."

"Okay, I will be back in a minute then." He said handing over the baby to Sherlock, who held him close to his chest and quickly walked to the little orchard which was beside the school.

John ran into the school and up to Matron who has all the dorm keys. Luckily there was no queue because he was much earlier and the school felt very empty, with only a few people who had come up last night wandering around. Once he had obtained the key he looked at the tag attached to it, room 21, he gave a sigh of relief, he knew where that was.

By chance it was close by to the staircase which lead to the outside door of the building in the west wing of the school. John ran out to Sherlock, and the two of them, quickly moving around the building edge with John in front looking out, darted up the flight of stairs and down the corridor and to their room which was at the end of a long corridor with doors to dorms on each side. When they got to their door, John checked the key again and then looked at the door, it was an old wooden door made of dark wood with nice carved embellishments on each side and a sturdy brass handle. Like everything in the school it was old, but in a country house, refined way and was like everything, very well kept.

John stuck in the key and then swung the door open, they quickly went inside, shutting the door hurriedly behind them.


	10. "Come, where be these gallants, who's at home?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I really would love for more people to be reading my story! The numbers seem to have decreased a tad :( so If you can recommend it to friends though it would be brilliant :) Thankyou for those reading this now! i would so so love to hear from you! please leave a comment if you liked it or didnt! 
> 
> Enjoyyyyy! :D

The dorm rooms were in sets of ten beds to a dorm for all of the lower school, but now that the pair were in lower sixth, they could have the privilege of getting a dorm to share with one other sixth former (provided they were of the same gender.) John, as was said previously, had sent in his room allocation request to be with Sherlock. Now, they had a small room to themselves, which felt to John like a miniature flat. The walls had dark wooden panelling and so did the floor, but the floor was also covered by a giant rug which was made of threads of dark blue, black and red's woven together into a old fashioned pattern of triangles and squares. The furniture in the room was, as you entered, to the left- two wooden beds which matched the darkness of the wood which surrounded the rest of the room. Each headboard had a patten carved into the wood, made up of swirls, and each bed was made with a thick, woollen blanket laid on top.  
To the right as you entered, there were a couple of chests of drawers, both looking old and intricate like the rest, and then straight ahead was a worn looking sofa with a small coffee table and a floor lamp. The bathroom was just off to the left from where you enter the room from, and contained a silver coloured shower and porcelain sink and toilet with shining taps and a bluish colour scheme on all the walls. All around the dorm, there were framed pictures of landscapes, just hanging on the walls for no reason whatsoever. They had to sign an agreement with the use of the dorm, that said they may decorate as they wished, so long as the dorm was given back at the end of the two years exactly how it was at the start. John put down his bag and looked around him at their new home. He grinned, and looked over to Sherlock who was holding Felix and turning up his nose.

"What? It's nice! Don't you think?" John asked, observing Sherlock's air of distaste written over his face.

"It is adequate. We will have to make some changes..."

"Change what?"

"All... This." He said gesturing around him.

"You mean everything?"

"Mmm." Sherlock said, walking into the room properly and surveying it. "Perhaps not. We need our things in here first."

"Yeah, just wait until at least then before any major redecorating!" John said laughing.

Sherlock put Felix down on the rug, in front of the sofa, and wandered over to the two beds and stood between them, looking from one to the other, before going and sitting on the one on the far right, by the window and against the outside wall.

"This is mine."

"Okay, fine by me. I don't mind!" John said picking up Felix and sitting on the sofa. "So what do we have to do today?" He mumbled, asking himself, "well we don't have an assembly until tomorrow morning, but supper is at seven. Isn't it Felix?" He smiled and tickled the baby, who let out a small giggle. Sherlock stood up and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" John asked, turning his head around to the door.

"Seeing who has the dorms assigned to around us. Useful information."

"Oh okay. Good idea."

-

Half an hour later, Sherlock came back though their door and shut it behind him.

"Did you find out?" John looked up from his schoolbook he was studying, and which Felix was craning over to look at the pictures in.

"Yes. Next door to us are two new pupils, Greg Lestrade and Oliver Browning, and across the corridor from us, there is Phillip Anderson and Mike Stamford. "

John groaned. "Anderson? Great. Why on earth Mike hangs out with him. Mike's actually okay! But Anderson..." He shook his head.

"My thoughts exactly." Sherlock murmured distractedly, looking out of their window down to the pathway outside. He then pulled out his phone and started texting. John looked briefly towards the window before turning back to Felix.

"Who are you texting?" He asked curiously.

"Molly."

"Oh, is she here yet?"

"No."

"Well may-"

There was a knock at their door, interrupting John. Both of their heads snapped up, looking towards the sound. John looked over to Sherlock with panic clearly written across his face. He started mouthing indistinguishable words and gestured silently and frantically toward Felix and then to Sherlock and the bathroom. Sherlock quickly but calmly picked up the child and hurried inside shutting the door behind him.

John got up, walked towards the front door and swung it open, to find two unfamiliar people around his age standing just outside, and not the teachers that he had been fearing. One was right in front of the door with a eager and smiling look on his face, and the other boy was sort of cowering behind him, looking extremely embarrassed by his friend. The one at the forefront was a fairly tall boy with dark hair, styled into a sort of small quiff at the front. He wore a black coat with small leather detailing and dark blue jeans along with scuffed up blue trainers. He began to chirpily make conversation with John.

"Hello. Just thought we would. Come around, say hello. We're next door! And, new here. Um... Yeah, we wanted to come-"

"Well you did..." The other murmured under his breath. At which the confident one turned around, stopped speaking and then took a step to one side to allow John a full look of the other. He was tall and had a sandy blonde mass of hair, cut into a neat, but groomed style. He wore skinny black jeans and a dark grey overcoat, which was unbuttoned halfway. He looked embarrassed at the eagerness of his friend, and the awkwardness of the situation that had been created. The brazen one spoke to the other with an air like he had been deeply insulted by him, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm sorry, but we are here to introduce ourselves. Are we going to do so?"

He mumbled a reply that John couldn't hear and hung his head.

"Right." He said turning towards John. "I'm Oliver. And this is ..." He gestured to the guy behind him, indicating he should speak.

"Greg. Greg Lestrade." He said giving a small smile to John.

John gave him a smile back and looked over his shoulder where Sherlock would have been but wasn't.

"Well I'm John, and I've got a roommate, um, Sherlock, but he's... not in at the moment."

"Pleased to meet you John. Pleased to meet you." Oliver said, picking up John's hand and shaking it vigorously, which John thought was strange, but went with it anyway.  
As the pair left for the doorway, Greg gave John a nod of recognition, and with it, a conformation of his name. A common way of leaving a conversation between two guys, one which was more familiar to John than the outdated mannerisms of his partner. Although nevertheless, after shutting the door, John thought that he could see them all getting along. Well... Except for Sherlock, but then he never really gets on with anyone! John thought to himself with a slight grin.

-

"Molly!" John shouted across the front driveway, to the girl struggling with her oversized cases. She looked up, flicking her long blonde hair out of her eyes to see where the voice was coming from. Her eyes scanned across all the people milling around and fell upon John, who was waving, her eyes lit up with recognition and John started towards her, snaking around all the people walking towards the school. He approached her smiling and then gave her a hug before taking her bag off her.

"Oh don't worr-" she started, but then gave in and let John carry the biggest suitcase for her. "Thanks."

"That's okay! I saw you come in and thought the least I could do- considering- what you're doing...was to come and help you with your bags!"

"Oh- well no, really it's not trouble to look after Felix! My pleasure, really, he so adorable! How is he?" She asked smiling as they headed towards the school building, being pulled along by the crowd going the same way.

"He's good, yeah. It's going to be difficult not to let anyone into our dorm room, what with school friends and all of that, bu-"

"Well. You could always leave him in my dorm if you need to? I mean, if that helps at any point?"

"Oh, well it might actually, thankyou, that mig- oh, but what about your roommate?"

"Oh, well yes, but, Well I'm rooming with um, Shelia, Shelia Davis? Do you remember her?"

"Ah yes, I do. She's the one-"

"Yeah, the one who doesn't speak a lot and spends all her time in the art department. She said she wouldn't really be in our dorm much." She looked slightly sad as she mentioned it.

"Oh well that's good. I mean, not good for you b-"

"No it is good, I like having time to myself! And she's got a provisional art scholarship too, so she needs to work hard now." Molly finished, trying to convince herself, just as they arrived at the bottom of the staircase up to John's dorm.

"Well I'm, we're up there... Do you want me to come with you to matron?"

"No! No don't worry it's fine! I will find my dorm and come over to yours when I have dumped my stuff..."

"Okay, if you're sure?"

"Yeah, see you in a bit."

 

-

Sherlock sat on the floor with his long legs crossed, waiting for John to return. He had been building an assault course for Felix to crawl through, created from their bags and stray items from around the room. Felix had just been placed at the starting line, and Sherlock sat towards the end with his arms outstretched, attempting to get Felix to come to him. Felix only burbled, and laughed at Sherlock's flailing arm gestures towards himself, and grinning towards Felix.  
Finally, he started to crawl towards Sherlock, but on coming to the first obstacle, a shoe of Sherlock's, instead of going around it, he picked it up and threw it, and then continued. Sherlock, with all the expressions of an overly proud parent, enthusiastically encouraged him to continue.

Once he had got to Sherlock, having thrown every obstacle in his way, Sherlock picked him up into a big hug and praised him highly for his, 'excellent initiative.' Whilst Felix smiled and played with Sherlock's curly hair.  
When John came in a few minutes later, he caught one glimpse of this loving scene, before Sherlock snapped out of it, and got up. John smiled, knowing that despite Sherlock's recent efforts for him not to see, Sherlock really thought highly of the child, and was terribly and uncharacteristically fond of the little boy.


	11. "The voice of parents is the voice of gods"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry its been a while :) Here's a new chapter for you hellyesship anyway :) thankyou for the comment on my last chapter! 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Quick Sherlock! Stop messing around!" John whispered as he peered out of their open dorm room door and into the corridor, checking it was clear.  
Sherlock was still in the dorm room, messing around with the zip on Felix's jumper, exasperatedly trying to do it up but fumbling with the tiny zip.

"I can't- Joh- it won't-"

"It amazes me you can play the violin so beautifully and find a zip difficult to do up!... Oh, it doesn't matter! Just leave the zip, we've got to go!" John continued, gesturing with one hand for Sherlock to follow him as he walked into the corridor, and along it to the top of the stairs.

It was the afternoon on their second day back at the school, of which the morning had been spent enduring an excessively long and boring assembly and the equally as 'tedious, mundane activity' as Sherlock had put it, of the handing out of timetables. They both had lessons in a few minutes, and were currently taking Felix over to Molly's dorm room, because she had frees that afternoon, and needed to unpack her stuff in her room, so had requested that they bring him over to hers rather than the pair's own dorm. This John thought may prove to be problematic due to the simple fact that Felix was pretty much illegally living at the school and therefore couldn't be seen by anyone, but since Molly was doing such a favour to them, John hadn't wanted to refuse.

Sherlock swiftly darted along the corridor holding Felix in his arms along with several jumpers, which for the most part covered him. All the corridors seemed to be longer than they knew them to be, out of fear of being caught. They both kept going all the way to the girls wing, keeping to the quiet routes around the side of the building, and walking down the corridors cautiously, managing to only meet a few people, who were in such a rush to get to their destination, that they barely paid attention to the pair. Therefore, in spite of a few close calls, they managed to arrive at Molly's dorm room, without Felix being noticed, much to John's relief.

All through the afternoon, they were in different lessons. Sherlock was in Chemistry and John in Biology. Nevertheless, both of them were sat at their desks, fretting and pondering over the same things- whether Felix was alright, and wondering what he was doing, and just generally thinking about him. Sherlock had never expected this much of his mind to be preoccupied with the child. He had never foreseen how many involuntary worries he would be feeling for the child's safety, once he knew he wasn't in John's or his own care. Even when he tried to concentrate on the chemistry work, his mind wandered away. Always back to Felix. Once the bell for the end of the school day had rung, and their lessons were over, John and Sherlock both rushed out and towards Molly's dorm room, eager to see Felix again. Even after only being apart for a couple of hours, it was the first time since they had 'got' him that neither was with him, and the two long hours felt more like two weeks to the pair.

-

John started to relax, they were on their way back to their own dorm with Felix, and they were coming closer to their own room. John felt relived that at least they hadn't been caught this time with Felix. But as they turned into their corridor to their horror, Oliver from next door was just coming out of his room. John's eyes widened slightly and his heart started thudding, afraid of being caught, Sherlock also hastened his pace, but Oliver noticed them and with a beaming grin, turned to face them.

"Lots of jumpers you've got there! ...Sherlock I'm guessing?" He questioned, pointing towards them and going too close to them for Sherlock's liking.

"Yes." Sherlock said, trying to move away from the boy and pulling in the bundle closer to his chest, which Oliver noticed and thought it was rather strange.

"I'm O-"

"Oliver. Yes I know." He said, edging his way around him, praying that Felix didn't move or make any noise. Oliver looked taken aback, obviously used to doing his own introductions, and stood staring at Sherlock with an air of amazement.

"How did you?-"

"You look like an Oliver." Sherlock said in a unthinking, monotone voice, opening the door to his room and stepping inside with John shortly stepping around and following behind him, giving a slight nod over to their neighbour as he passed. Leaving Oliver behind them with his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows furrowed, staring after the pair acting strangely, and the curious bundle. Both of which he had carefully taken note of.

As soon as they got into the room, John burst out laughing.

"What. What?" Sherlock asked frowning, confused at his hilarity.

"Just... You look like an Oliver..." He burst out with more laughing. "His... His face!"

Sherlock started to laugh too, a small deep chuckle, as he uncovered Felix from his jumpers.

"Shush!" John quietened Sherlock, "he'll hear us!"

The couple restrained their laughter and collapsed onto the sofa with Felix sitting in-between them. The child looked up between the pair, from one to the other with a confused look on his face.

"Don't worry Felix, we're fine! Your Daddy and Papa just found something very funny!" John said then looking up, he caught Sherlock's eye and realised what he had said. 

His face went from smiling to shock, his eyes widening and rapidly surveying Sherlock's face for his reaction to his mistake? Or not? John didn't know. They'd not talked about that sort of thing yet. Not really.

"Sher-" he began, not quite knowing what to say or what Sherlock's reaction would be to the names he'd just said. He soon found out. Sherlock, running his hand through his hair, stood up and walked towards his case and started to violently unpack it. All hilarity cut out of the air around them, changing it instead to an awkward atmosphere.  
John could have kicked himself. He should have thought before using his nicknames he had been calling them in his head out loud. 'Stupid, I should have realised Sherlock wouldn't like it.' He thought to himself.

"I didn't- didn't mean t-"

"It's fine." Sherlock abruptly cut in.

"Sherlo-"

"It's fine." He repeated, throwing a shirt onto his bed from his case, and then picking up the entire case and tipping it onto the floor by the end of his bed.

For Sherlock, he didn't know quite how he felt about the names John had just used. 'Daddy and Papa?' He didn't know what the nicknames meant. He was sure it must mean something. That John saw them as a pair? Something similar? He took a glance over at John's creased up and worried looking face. Of course they were a pair! They're bringing up Felix together aren't they! It just never occurred to Sherlock that they needed names other than their own for Felix to use in the future. He had always referred to his own as Father, he had never used the more childish 'Daddy' or 'Papa' but of course it made sense to be called them, wouldn't it?  
Why then did he feel so strange when John had called the pair of them that? Of course they were Felix's parents and therefore his father. So... fathers. Felix's fathers. His dads? They must be. It made sense in all of the logical ways he was pondering in his mind, but what didn't make sense to him was that strange new emotion he had felt. Something new which he couldn't put his finger on. He looked across again at John's face and suddenly didn't want this heavy atmosphere that now he could feel surrounded them to continue. So he went back to the sofa and sat back down, John's eyes following him as he did so. He took in a sharp breath and met John's anxious gaze. He then said what he had worked out to be the easiest way to relieve the tense look on John's face, which was making him scrunch up his features, in a way which made Sherlock wish to stop John's upset. 

After all, the names did make sense logically.

 

"Who is which?"

John's expression immediately changed, relaxing into a slight surprised smile.

"Well, I though you were more of a Dad. Or... Daddy or whatever...?"

"Yes. I believe I could allow Felix to call me that... Yes."

"Papa would be me then?"

"Yes. That... It... Suits you."

John smiled wider and looked down at Felix,

"Did you hear that? Felix, your Dad likes the names." Putting the stress on the name, with a happy tone playing in his voice. Felix just smiled and looked with adoring eyes between the two of them.

-

 

John picked up a toy from where it had somehow made it's way into his bed. He sighed and placed it on the floor in the area where Felix seemed to enjoy playing in. He looked down into the cot which was shoved between the two beds. They had shifted them as far to the sides as they could go, and after taking out the nightstands they had been able to squeeze the cot between them. Felix was lying in it on his back, his arms slowly flailing in the air although he was fast asleep.  
John smiled at his little sleeping face which was scrunched up with the dream he was obviously having. Next to him in the bed was his favourite 'toy' at the moment- his small pair of science goggles which Sherlock had given him some weeks ago. They never seemed to leave his side, he always had them in his hands, on his head or wearing them. John thought that there could be worse things for him to be attached to, there could of course be more normal things, but with Sherlock as a father, and the situation they were in, he was hardly being brought up in a 'normal' environment!

John looked over to the other bed across from him as he sat down again on the edge of his own. Sherlock was tucked under the covers, his hair the only thing which seemed to be peeking out above them. He could also see that Sherlock had his knees to his chest under the blanket and one thin white hand, clutching the outside of the blanket and sticking out of it whilst doing so. John smiled and lay down in his own bed, pulling his covers up and settling down into the soft pillow to sleep, happy his family were around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you like it! :D


	12. "Love is blind, and lovers cannot see"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to anyone who is still reading this!!! I'm sorry i've had so many exams at school so I haven't been updating much! :( But I promise I will try to be better with it! Here's another chapter for you :) Please please comment if you enjoy it as your comments mean the world to me!! Thankyou!! Xxxx

I walked towards the dorm room, hoping to find a nice and neat room perhaps Sherlock would have put away those papers I had asked him to yesterday, maybe there wouldn't be dirty mugs on every available surface, perhaps I was about to walk into a room where perchance nothing was going wrong for a change. But, as I put my key into the door, I heard the muffled sounds of Felix's excited burbling from inside and knew immediately that this probably wasn't going to be the case. Especially as Sherlock and I had had a... dispute let's call it, (even though it was mainly just me shouting at him) earlier that morning,  
and I wasn't in the best of moods to deal with him right now.  
Pushing the door open, the sounds got louder, so I hastily shut the door behind me.

"Sherlock!" I said raising my voice. "Shhh, I can hear Felix from out there!" I hissed, gesturing towards the door, merely paranoid of being caught out with a baby in school.

Sherlock stuck out his bottom lip in defiance.

"Well it's hardly my fault that he's enjoying himself!"

I sighed and put my hand to my head. Sherlock was still in 'that mood.' The mood he had seemed to be in a lot lately, and probably what had caused the majority of our previous argument. The mood where he had to contradict everything which I said, he also felt it necessary to use Felix against me in situations like this, which always irritated me beyond belief.

"Sherloc-" I began, but was interrupted by his further engagement in this childish behaviour.

"Don't you want him to have fun John?" He said in a mournful tone, with a hint of spite, raising his eyebrows at me.

I knew that I had to speak to him as if he was actually a child and just to ride his temperament out, and so I said what I would if I had been talking to a five year old.  
"You do exactly what you want to Sherlock."

His eyes followed my every move, as I walked over towards our kettle- we had 'borrowed' it from the kitchen downstairs, Sherlock insisting we would give it back after just using it for just the one cup of tea... Something which (unsurprising to me) hadn't happened yet. Not that I was really complaining. I flicked it on, and pulled out a tea bag and cleanish looking mug. Turning around, I tried to match Sherlock's quizzical gaze with one of my own.   
"What?" I asked raising an eyebrow.  
His face was a mixture of annoyance and curiosity, with his eyebrows lifted slightly and one corner of his mouth turned down.

"You didn't answer my question." He replied.

I sighed.

"What question Sherlock?"

"Do you want Felix to have fun?"

"Wha-? Of course I wan-" I started angrily before repeating in my head my mantra, -'Don't react. He only wants a reaction.' Taking in a breath I carried on calmer.

"Sherlock. You know fully well that I do want him to have as much fun as he can."

"You don't seem to." He mumbled to himself whilst picking Felix up and bring him to his bed, where he sat with him on his lap. He then started to talk through Felix at me, something he knew would wind me up.

"Your Papa is going to have to make a cup of tea for us as well isn't he?"

I looked over at him, thoroughly irritated now, and therefore deciding to use his own tactic against him, I spoke to Felix too.

"Your Daddy is going to have to get his own cup of tea if he wants one." I said in the most sickly sweet voice I could manage, before looking up at Sherlock's face. "Because I am not going to make him one."

Sherlock's face dropped. I realised I'd been slightly too harsh on him. I didn't want to fall out over something so trivial.

"Wait. Okay. Sherlock, IF you tidy up a bit of...that." I gestured to the toys littered all over the sofa. "I will make you a cup of tea."

His face lit up, like a child on christmas morning, and he darted off to the sofa, swiftly moving items off it.

I laughed at his absurdity.   
"You do realise it would taste exactly the same of you made it yourself!" I commented, stirring the milk in.

He shook his head adamantly and paused what he was doing. "It wouldn't."

"It would though!"

"You make a.... John cup of tea!"

"A John cup of tea??"

"Yes... It tastes different." 

I grinned, my irritation with my friend rapidly disappearing.

"Okay, here is your 'John cup of tea' then!" I said as I handed him a mug, before bringing Felix over, and my own mug, we all sat down on the sofa together.   
There was that lovely moment of peaceful quietness as we took our first sips, relishing the tea. It's strange how whatever irritations or stresses you have in your life, you should never underestimate the power a cup of tea has in putting them to rest for a while, and the clarity of mind it can bring I thought as I relaxed back into the sofa. 

-

Molly came over in the afternoon, and Sherlock and her were sitting on the sofa watching Felix playing on the floor as I got on with a piece of homework sitting on my bed. We had been back at school for over a week now, with surprisingly very few things going wrong surrounding the concealment of Felix. There had been a few close calls with people in the corridors, but that was it.   
'Molly has been so great with helping us,' I thought as I looked over at her handing a toy down to Felix. We are so lucky to have her help. Why do I feel... Strange about her then? I had felt this strange feeling about her for a few days now, I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, I liked Molly... I'm sure that I like her? Why wouldn't I? It was just that way she put her hand there, on Sherlock's arm. And she keeps looking at him like, she fancies him or something. That sideways glance look she just gave him, and the way she keeps bowing her head every time he speaks to her. I didn't like It.... But. Then this feeling... Was it? No, that's absurd! It can't be jealously! Why on earth would I feel jealous? I don't feel jealous! Or do I? I looked back up to the pair of them sitting there. They are too close. That was my immediate thought.   
I internally shook myself, what on earth am I thinking about? I need to concentrate on my work. But even trying to concentrate I could hear her laughing at something he said to her, laughing at something I should be laughing at.   
No.... I can't possibly be thinking...? No. Certainly not. No.   
I have to get out of here.   
Standing up suddenly, and feeling overwhelming claustrophobia come over me, I grabbed my work and a pen and I headed for the door.

"John?" I heard him say. His voice shocked me still, rooting me to the ground, like I didn't expect to hear it. I turned around and met his eyes, but I couldn't hold the gaze.   
"I'm...just going to...work somewhere quieter." I mumbled, looking everywhere but at Sherlock, before hurriedly escaping out of the door.

As I wandered down to the library I started thinking of how I had just acted. He must think that I was behaving weirdly. Of course he picked up on it. It's Sherlock! What shall I tell him? Why was I really behaving strangely though? I can't deal with him and Molly is all I know. I don't like them being so... close. Too close. Why though? I'm not actually jealous? Get a grip John, what are you even thinking here?

My sister's sarcastic voice came wandering through my mind. "Your 'friend'?"   
I shook it away. He was my friend. That's all. I can't feel jealous that my friend has a girl who fancies him! That would be ridiculous! And overprotective! No. I must stop this stupid thinking once and for all. No.   
I arrived at the door to the library, but deciding I didn't want to work I walked out into the gardens, loving the feeling of the warm setting sun on my face. I needed to think straight. That's one thing my soldier of a father had taught me. To be able to stop and put the facts in order. A skill at that moment I was highly glad to possess.   
The facts: I felt weird about Molly being near Sherlock. I am clearly therefore jealous of their relationship. I am jealous because I like Sherlock. I mean...because we are really close friends ...with a child. Well then it's obvious...  
I clearly ... don't want anything getting in the way of Sherlock doing his part towards looking after Felix. Good. Now I had that in order. I realised that must be why I'm jealous. And so in the words of my father. I had to move on and get over it. Worrying and debating won't help anyone. Taking in one last breath of the fresh, cool air, I wandered back inside, clear with my reasoning.


	13. "To look into happiness through another man's eyes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya all you wonderful people! Thankyou so much for reading! I'm trying to be better with updating so here's another chapter for you! I have planned out the next few as well so I know where the story is headed ;) but you guys will just have to wait and find out.... :D LOVE YOU ALL! Comment if you like it or want to see something in it :) Xxxx

The leaves were starting to turn orange and fall off the trees, and soon they would completely litter the hockey pitch. For now though, the odd leaf drifted across over the edge of the railings and onto the players on the court, and got swept into their fast moving game, crunched underfoot as the teenagers charged towards the goals at either end of the pitch.

John was one of the players in the game, and he gripped his hockey stick tighter in his hand as he waited for the ball to come up to his end. Expectantly poised, he flinched and then prepared himself as he thought the ball may come near him. However, it got to just past the centre before it was turned around and went back up to the other end again. He bit down on his gum shield firmly, attempting to take away the full force of his irritation towards the game.

He was smart, he understood it was only the start of term and he couldn't have been expected to be in this year's A team immediately, but it was always the same people, they just managed to be that little bit better than John at the game, and therefore he never seemed to get a chance.

This year there were even more good players, meaning that John was even further down in the pool of people for the coach to choose from.

He sighed heavily as his team scored another goal. Today's practice was a strange one, as John had unexpectedly been placed as the goalkeeper on the A team in a match against the B team. This meant that unfortunately for John, the more goals his team scored, the less he saw the of the ball at his end. He hadn't even needed to defend one goal yet, and the practice was nearly over, and it also meant the less the coach saw of John's playing. He was a new coach this year and had been sizing up the pupils for the month and a half they had been back at school. John had not been chosen for either of the two games that had already happened, but he was determined to be chosen for the next one, and so dedicatedly attended all the practices he could, but so far with no avail.

One of the star players already this term, who had not only attracted the coach's attention, but apparently the attention of all the girls in their year, was a new boy called Greg Lestrade. John couldn't help but like Greg, he just had that likeability factor. You would think because of his popularity he wouldn't be a nice person, that it would have tainted him somehow, gone to his head. However underneath it all, he was a genuinely friendly person too, despite the unsavoury characters he hung out with.

John's eyes followed the lean boy, as he sprinted again from the centre and shot another goal, just seconds before the whistle blew, and John couldn't help but feel admiration for the boy's talent underneath his jealously, as he was undoubtedly very talented.

John picked up his slightly unnecessary water bottle from the side of the court, and started to amble up to the changing rooms along with all the other guys, feeling desperate for some sort of physical activity, after the lack of running he had just been doing during the game. He looked over his shoulder out to the field and the running track longingly, hoping that he might spot some small group out there, bearing the weather, but no luck. Nobody wanted to be out running in this grey and drizzly autumnal time. John sighed and took a sip of water and carried on walking to the changing rooms.

The school had a rule that if using the sports field, you must be in at least pairs, as the field was half hidden from view from the school building, and the rule was implemented after a nasty injury took place on the field to a lone runner when John was in Year 8, and henceforth meant there were serious punishments to be given if anyone was found alone on the sports field.

The players all pushed into the changing rooms, picking up their stuff from the benches and taking long drinks from their water bottles. Just as John went to pick up his stuff and sit down to take off his shoes, he heard someone calling over all the people talking.

"Anyone fancy going out to the field? I feel like a bit of a run."

John turned around looking for the source of the request. It was Greg, and people started calling out their answers.

"Nah."

"Sorry not now!"

"Too tired"

"It's bloody well raining"

"you want to keep running after that?"

"How'd you have the energy!"

John stood up and nodded to Greg.

"Hey, i'll come with you."

Greg nodded back and they started out towards the field together.

The star of the hockey team seemed pleased that John had come with him, and started making conversation on the way up.

"So, what's your running?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, like, what do you do? 100m? cross country?"

"Oh right, yeah, I do sprinting, 100 metres."

"Ah okay."

"And you? What do you do?"

"Yeah, sometimes the same. mainly a bit longer, 300 or 400."

"Right, yeah okay." John said nodding politely, just as they made it to the edge of the field.

"Well i'll leave you the 100 metre area and i'll do the 400, if you want?" Greg said, gesturing to the areas of the field.

"Yeah, yeah thanks." John said whilst putting his water bottle down at the edge of the running track.

John positioned himself on the starting line. He always loved this, the feeling of just about to start something, the suspense building in his chest as he waited to go. He breathed in and ran, feeling the drizzly rain brush over his face as he did so, refreshing and spurring him on. The next time he ran he tried to time himself on his watch, but it was difficult to get it accurate as he was trying to stop it just as he went over the line, but his running prevented it from being exactly the time he crossed it, so he gave up trying to time himself after several attempts. He hadn't run since the end of last term, and it was a good feeling, to just feel the cold air around him seemingly turning warmer, as his body temperature rose the more he ran. As well as that rush of adrenaline as he built up speed.

After about half an hour of running, Greg came back to the 100 metre part of the track and started to approach John who had just finished running again. He called over to him as he did so.

"You're going pretty fast from what I could see!"

John just laughed and shook his head, putting his hands on his knees to try to catch his breath. "Well you were quite far away. I'm not going that fast!"

"You're being modest, I can see it. You're a fast runner."

"Nah, i'm really not." John said, shrugging it off smiling.

"Here." Greg said, gesturing to John's wrist. "Pass me your watch. I'll time you."

"No really, there's no need!-"

"No, go on. You can't time yourself like that."

John handed over his watch and went to the starting line and got into position. He felt an overwhelming need to impress Greg, and this meant he felt all of a sudden shaky. He took in a few deep breaths to calm himself, and waited until Greg yelled 'Go!', before releasing his nerves and sprinting. After he had passed over the finish line, Greg started jumping around looking down at the watch.

"I told you! Look at that! Look at that!" He sang out, excitedly.

"What! What?" John asked moving to see the watch. As he saw the little numbers on the screen his eyes widened.

"10.8. 10.8!" Greg shouted.

John looked stunned, "are you sure that's accurate?" he asked, looking again at the watch, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Yeah! Of course I'm sure! God you're fast!"

"Huh. Well thats a new personal best." John said smiling.

"Why are you not on the hockey team? How on earth are you not on the hockey A team!"

"I don't know, i'm not that gre-"

"Oh shush! I'm talking to the coach about this, because you don't even get a chance in practice. You would be great on the team."

"Well, tt-thankyou." John muttered, finding it hard to just accept the compliment.

They started to walk in, Greg still excited about John's time. As they picked up their stuff in the changing room, John remembered that that he and Sherlock were in the dorm next to Greg and Oliver, and so they started to head up together to their dorms, still in their shorts and hockey shirts, and padding along in their socks, up the wooden staircase quickly, so they weren't seen wandering about the school in their PE kit, which could lead to a detention, unless it was on a day of a school match... Just another of those many seemingly pointless school rules.

John pushed the door open to his dorm and went inside, Sherlock was sitting with Felix on the sofa, where he was reading him a large book which looked suspiciously like a medical school textbook, with detailed anatomy drawings and labelled pictures of injuries and wounds. Obviously the perfect bedtime story for a baby.

John narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything to Sherlock, instead going and having a shower in their bathroom, and getting changed back into his school uniform again.

About fifteen minutes later, there was knock on their door, Sherlock upon hearing the knock, swiftly moved onto John's bed with Felix, (as it was completely hidden from the sight of the doorway) whilst John opened the door. This being their standard procedure to keep Felix hidden, which had become a habit of theirs.

It was Greg outside, and he grinned at John as the door opened.

"Hey, I was just wondering if you wanted to come down with me to see some of the guys from the team, they're all in the common room we were just gonna play cards or something."

"Oh, yeah that would be great! Sounds fun." John said smiling and grabbing his keys from the stand by the door, following Greg out, and closing the door firmly behind him, without even a glance behind him.

Sherlock's face dropped the minute the door clicked shut. He sat holding Felix, a little bit taken aback and disappointed. He had been hoping that John would stay in the dorm this evening, and he would sit with him and Felix for a bit, Sherlock would show John how he'd taught Felix how to point to where the liver was and where the spleen was on his own body. But there had been hockey practice and then he now had friends he would rather sit with instead. Sherlock looked down at Felix's little face looking expectantly up at him, and ruffled his hair and held him close as he leant back onto John's bed, the smell of John wafting around him. He shut his eyes and Felix did the same. Waiting for John came back was all he seemed to be doing at the moment.


	14. Chapter 14- "Things in motion sooner catch the eye than what not stirs"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you like it or want to see anything happen to the characters! Would love to hear your feedback! :) Thanks so much for reading!!!

That Saturday Sherlock was excited, he had wanted to do something nice for him and John, but had felt unsure of what to do. Today Felix was 7 months old exactly, and Sherlock decided he could look on the internet for ideas to do with what he might do for the occasion. He had found out that although it was meant for a seven year anniversary, the present to give was wool or copper. He assumed John knew about this tradition, and got extremely excited at the prospect of finding something perfect. so the day before whilst John was at his hockey practice, he had phoned up all the antique dealers in the area and found what he thought was the perfect gift for the occasion, and had it delivered to him the next morning. It was a small wooden box with intricate carvings painted in a copper coloured paint, with copper clasps and a tiny copper key. When you opened it up, there was a small copper music box, which after being wound up, played the opening to 'Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64', by Mendelssohn, the composer Felix was named after. Sherlock thought that him and John would give it to Felix that evening, and spent the entire morning pacing around waiting for it to arrive, and when it did, (luckily John was out as he wanted it to be a surprise for him too) he looked around the room panic stricken. What was he going to do about wrapping paper? Sherlock looked over to Felix who was happily playing on the carpet with Sherlock's shoes and some pencils which were lying strewn around, he subtly hid the present behind his back to get past Felix and put it under his own pillow on his bed, as he had no doubt the child was clever enough to spot he had something in his hand and wish to play with it immediately.

Sherlock sat and thought about what to do about wrapping the present, the idea stressing him out more than any schoolwork had that year. He suddenly picked up his phone, deciding he needed advice on the matter and called up Molly.

Molly came over 10 minutes later, and sat patiently whilst Sherlock explained his idea for the present and all the process to buying it before producing it with a flourish from his pillow, whilst Felix was facing the other direction. Molly held the box in amazement, incredulous that Sherlock of all people could come up with such a perfect gift for the occasion. She looked at Sherlock's expression which was one of uncertainty, one she's never seen on his face before, and didn't know he was capable of.

"Is it... is it okay?" He asked hesitantly.

"Sherlock. It's, it's just beautiful. It's perfect." She replied, watching his face light up with an slightly bashful smile.

"You, you really think that?" He asked, remaining hesitant.

"Yes Sherlock. Felix will love it and so will John. When are you giving it?"

"Later, this evening, when John's match has finished."

"He'll love it." Molly assured, giving him a soft smile, which he returned.

"The problem is. I... I want to wrap it, but I have no paper, and I don-"

"It okay, I have a friend who takes Art, she'll have something i'm sure."

"Really? Could you...?" He asked, his face lighting up again.

"Yeah give me a few minutes, i'll get it now."

Five minutes later and she was back, holding some materials in her hands.

"Right, so I have some tissue paper here..." She said holding up some pale blue delicate paper. "And here is some... well it isn't wrapping paper, it's more old wallpaper... but it's okay i'm sure you can wrap it in that." She handed them across to Sherlock, who hid from Felix behind the sofa with all the items, whilst Molly played with Felix to keep him distracted.

He tried to put it around it one way. It came apart, then the other way, which came apart too. With a grunt of annoyance at the paper, he took a strip of Sellotape and then held down the paper, only to find that the tape had stuck to the side of his jumper. He ripped it off in frustration and tried again, only to have it stick to the back of the sofa. One more time he tried and held it carefully, not letting it stick to anything, only for him to realise h had no free hand to fold the paper and hold it down. He tried to hold it down with his elbow but it came undone and flapped open to the sides again. He yelled in anger and leapt up, dropping the Sellotape on the floor, as Molly watched him in amusement.

"Having some trouble there Sherlock?" She asked, trying to contain her laughter.

He looked over at her with narrowed eyes, and then down at the paper again, before moodily crossing his arms and staring at the still unwrapped present.

"Staring at it won't wrap it you know." Molly sniggered after a few moments.

"I am fully aware of the basic laws of Physics, thank you Molly." He curtly replied, glaring at her.

"Look. I'll show you how." She declared, before coming round to the other side of the sofa, Felix's eyes following her all the way around.

She picked up the present and turned it upside-down, and then covered it with the tissue paper, putting a quick piece of tape here and there to hold it together, then she opened up the sheet of wallpaper, and keeping the present upside-down, she quickly folded in each of the flaps, neatly into the sides and stuck down each folded triangle with a small piece of tape, before flipping the present the right way around and holding it up to Sherlock. His eyes were wide in amazement, as he took it from her, looking over the neatly folded paper and then back at Molly, then at the present again, not understanding the process which had just happened in front of him.

"Th- Thankyou Molly." He stuttered, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"You're welcome." She said, laughing at his expression of bewilderment.

She got up to leave, going to kiss Felix on the head as she went, who reached his arms out to her for a hug, so she picked him up into a big bear hug, making him giggle, before putting him down on the floor. As she got to the door, in her head she queried why it was this particular month that Sherlock was giving a gift to Felix.

"Sherlock. Why this month? Like why are you giving a gift now to Felix?"

'I-I thought it would be nice... I missed the 6 months, which according to the internet, is the bigger month, which is absurd as its just because it is half of a year."

"Sher-"

"Yes, back to the point. I don't know. John's been- away a lot recently, I thought, it'd be... nice"

"It is lovely Sherlock, absolutely lovely. When... are you giving it again?"

"After his match, this evening."

"Where is he now?"

"Practicing."

"Hang on, what time does the match start?"

"Three, I believe."

"Do you... want to go see him play? Have you ever seen him play?"

"I- I haven't ever seen him play, no. I would- It would be-"

"I can look after Felix for you. I'll come back at about two thirty, yeah?"

"Yes, if that suits-"

"It's fine" She said smiling. "I really don't mind at all."

"Th-thankyou Molly." Sherlock stuttered, taken aback by her generosity for once.

"No problem, see you then." She replied as she went out of the door.

Sherlock looked over to Felix and Raised his eyebrows.

"How bout that then Felix?" He murmured, smiling.

-

-

Sherlock sat outside on the tiered seating, by the hockey pitch waiting for it to start, the sky was grey and looked like there was the chance of it raining, so Sherlock pulled his scarf and his coat more firmly around his as he waiting in anticipation for the players to arrive. He was looking forward to seeing John play as he had heard he was very good from the other players, and he hadn't seen him play for years, just because he hadn't been in the same PE set as him, and Sherlock had dropped PE as soon as he physically was able to. He hadn't seen John to tell him that he would be at the match, so he had sent him a text telling him he was coming, although he doubted he would have seen it before the match.

John jogged onto the field, trying to keep his mind focused on the game he was about to partake in. It was his first chance since being put of the A team for hockey that he had had for showing the team and the coaches what he could do, and he was determined not to mess it up. He looked up at the greying sky, hoping it didn't rain and put the match off.

As the team took their positions on the field, John clenched his teeth together holding in the gum-shield and concentrated, waiting for the whistle. As it blew he held his ground, waiting for the ball to come near him before tackling the boy on the opposite team, skillfully managing to obtain the ball, and then doing a mad dash towards their team's goal. He passed the ball to Greg with one mighty swing and he in turn, flung it towards the goal, where it whizzed past the goalie, hitting the wooden backboard with a smack.

Sherlock watched the action intently, admiring the way all the players on their school managed to get the ball off the opposing team. But especially John. John seemed to be one of the best players on the team, and Sherlock was amazed that he hadn't been on the team for long and before long he had scored another goal with the help of Greg. Sherlock cheered and clapped with the rest of the crowd, suddenly understanding why people went to games such as these and why people were often such avid sports fans. Of course he wouldn't find it exciting at all if John wasn't playing in the game.

At half time the score was 7:5, with their school winning on account of John and Greg's playing boosting up their score massively. Sherlock looked over to John, who was standing by himself, fiddling with his gum-shield on the edge of the pitch, he got up to go talk to him before he spotted Greg and a couple of other players going over to talk to him instead. Sherlock thought better of interrupting that, and sat down, feeling a weird jealousy wash over him. He tried to shake it off as he watched them laughing and joking about and clapping John on the shoulder. He felt such an urge to rush over there and rip their hands off his shoulders and move them all away from John. He felt angry about the fact they were even standing near to him. His John. He was his friend, they shouldn't be allowed to make him laugh like that.

The game started again and Sherlock watched it now with a film of anger over Greg and the other players. He didn't understand why he was feeling like that over the game but he suddenly couldn't deal with all of the players being like that around John and was determined now to mention it to John later when he saw him again. He tried to calm himself down of these ridiculous feelings for the meantime and concentrate back on the game.

With a couple of minutes to go, their team were losing the game and John was getting frustrated. He was starting to feel tired and therefore flagging and losing his concentration and focus he had started with. He gripped his hockey stick and ran towards the ball, determined to win the game. Using his last reserves of energy he sprinted and flung it to another player who hit it into the goal making it an equal score for both teams.

One minute left, John had the ball and ran with it, only to have it tackled off of him, leaving him angry at himself. He used his anger to push himself towards the player and he knocked the ball out of his stick's reach and into his own and curved around, following the edge of the pitch down towards the goal. As the goal loomed in the distance John heard the cries of the last few seconds being counted down and he knew he only had one option, and so he hit it with all his might towards the goal, where it sharply just made it past the goalkeeper and with the force that John had flung it, bounced into the back of the net at the top of the goal. There was a fraction of the continued silence from the crowd before they erupted into cheers and clapping.


	15. Chapter 15-“But to the brightest beams, distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! I haven't posted in a while so I thought I'd do you an extra long chapter :) I'm super excited to post one I just wrote but i'm a little ahead in the story so you're going to have to wait a little! (Needs polishing anyway.) Thank-you for those who are reading this! It means such a lot to hear you comment on it :) Please if you like it share it and pass it on to your friends, and comment and tell me what you enjoyed or didn't :) LOVE YOU ALL! xxxxxx

After the match Sherlock walked back to his dorm room with a sombre and moody attitude. He relieved Molly from looking after Felix and let her go back to her dorm without him saying a huge amount about what had occurred on the hockey pitch, just a couple of indistinguishable moody grunts.

So Sherlock sat and waited for John to return, mulling over in his brain what had happened. He was going to confront John, that was for certain. Although as Sherlock thought about it, he didn't quite know what he would confront him about... Of course he realised he felt jealous towards the other players and that the hockey players now took up all of John's time, but Sherlock couldn't understand why he had felt so jealous. After much deliberating and questioning himself, the genius concluded there was no need to confront John as from as far as he could see, there was nothing to say to him on the matter. Instead Sherlock would just repress whatever he had been feeling earlier on that day.

Two hours later John walked through the front door with his phone in his hand and looked up briefly at Sherlock who was sitting on the sofa holding Felix and an oddly box shaped, wallpaper object.

"Hey" John said briefly whilst looking up quickly from his phone before dropping his head back down again.

"Hello." Sherlock curtly replied, his voice tight and his lips thin, but as Sherlock's bad and strange moods were increasingly commonplace, John didn't notice this as being odd behaviour at all. He spoke out, barely looking up from his phone as he did so.

"I just got your text... You came to the match?"

"Yes. I came to the match."

"Oh right, well I didn't see you there."

"Well. I did come."

John moved to the kettle and began to boil it. Sherlock relaxed into himself, feeling relieved that John was here at least for the duration of a cup of tea. He thought of what he wanted to say to John, he wanted to ask why he had ignored him. He wanted to command John to stop seeing the other players. To remind him that he had an obligation to Felix, to tell him... to tell him, that he needed him... But he couldn't. He couldn't seem to find the words.

John moved over and sat down next to Sherlock on the sofa. Sherlock looked to John as if he wanted to say something, he clutched his gift in his hand.

"What?" John said, not appreciating the glare he was getting from his friend.

Sherlock stuttered and then found a sentence forming in his head which he blurted out without really thinking about it.

"You're not allowed to play hockey anymore."

"What?!" John exclaimed, in a slight bad mood because he was tired from the game, but also incredulous to what it was his friend was saying.

"You have an obligation to me and to Felix. You're not allowed."

"Who says that I'm not allowed to?"

"I do."

"Well why do I have to listen to you! I didn't cancel on my friends to sit here and listen to you saying this sort of-"

"Joh-"

"No. I do my part. I do more than my part, you've no right to tell me what to do."

"I didn't me-" Sherlock started, suddenly horrified at what he had begun.

"Jesus...I'm sick of this. It's enough that I have to put up with your childish behaviour half the time, now you're trying to control me and what I do in my spare time."

"Joh-"

"No. I'm done with this. I'm going out. Leave me alone"

John got up and grabbed his jacket and his phone which he'd put on the side earlier, and without a glance back, walked through the door, slamming it behind him.

Sherlock felt stunned. He hadn't expected what had happened to take place. He didn't feel okay, he felt strange, as if all the tendrils of his connection to John had snapped. He didn't know quite what to do with himself. He picked up Felix and then put him back down again. He paced from side to side then glanced at the sofa where the present lay, now looking like a sad pathetic little box rather than the lovely surprise it was meant to be. He realised with a start that John wouldn't get it today when he was meant to get it, meaning the whole present meant nothing now, the idea of it being 7 months meant nothing. This thought made him almost tear up, although he didn't understand why.

Sentiment, emotions, they weren't supposed to affect him... but he suddenly needed John, he knew he needed him. He wanted to bring him back, to apologise. He jumped up suddenly, off of the sofa, startling Felix who looked up at him bemused. He then grabbed his phone and found Molly's contact with in a couple of seconds. He debated texting her but then realised it needed to be quicker than a text so pressed the dial button. It rang out several times before he flung it down on the floor in frustration. Sherlock looked down at his phone which was now lying shattered on the floor. A myriad of criss-crossing zigzag breaks had erupted over the entire screen as if it was lightning. Sherlock moaned lightly as he picked it up, looking over it in dismay.

He felt desperate. He had no idea where John was and why he felt this overwhelming need to find him and make things right between them, but he knew he must. Sherlock hoped that when he saw John that he could be able to deduce quite what it was that he was feeling. Possibly delirious he thought, although from quite what he was delirious from was entirely beyond him.

He evaluated the facts, he was trapped in the room because of Felix, so he knew he couldn't go out and look for John until he had someone to take care of him. No matter what John thought, he wasn't entirely irresponsible, and cared more than he would admit for the little boy. With his phone completely out of use, he realised as he tentatively picked it up, shards of glass falling out as he did so, his only choice was to go and find Molly himself.

He looked at Felix for a split second contemplating what he was going to do before picking him up and bundling him up in his long grey coat. Although fairly well covered, Felix was by no means hidden and so Sherlock was relying on moving fast as not to be caught.

He opened the door quickly and knocked it shut behind him, moving on along the corridor until he heard a noise behind him. It was Ollie from next door. He was looking at Sherlock, clearly having spotted perhaps something move underneath the coat and shouted after Sherlock who paid him no heed but kept moving swiftly on towards the girls dorm.

He knocked on the door to Molly's dorm and then again and again when she didn't answer, each more hurried than the last. Until finally the door opened and there stood... Not Molly. Not Molly but a girl with a paintbrush in one hand, who was covered in paint and wore a scowling expression on her face. Sherlock pushed his way past her into the dorm, despite her protestations for him to not do so.

The girl looked at Sherlock with an angry expression, her arms crossed and tapping one foot, as he whirled around wildly, looking for Molly.

"Who are you. What are you doing here. Wait is that a ba-"

"Yes. This is Felix. Where is Molly?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"She's, out... Why do you ha-" the girl asked her face scrunching up in confusion.

"He's my son. Now I really must find Molly."

"Why?"

"Because he is my son."

"No why Mol- Oh my god! Is sh-"

"No."

"But you-"

"No, certainly not. Where is she?" He said getting exasperated at her frustrating questions.

"Probably in like a science lab or something...? I don't know."

Sherlock upon hearing that, re-bundled up Felix and heading off in that direction, leaving a very confused girl behind him.

-

John stormed out of the school building, walking through the orchard to his right. Sherlock was seriously getting under his skin. He was fuming at his last remark about him not being 'allowed' to play football, I mean who did Sherlock think he was? With all of his behaviour which he has to put up with! John leant his head against an apple tree in the dark, the damp cool bark placed against the heat of his angered and flushed face. John suddenly thought about the fact that he had turned down going out with the guys from the football team tonight due to wanting to see Sherlock. He sighed, oh of course Sherlock had ruined the nice night he had been envisaging. Well why shouldn't I go out? He thought whilst picking at one of the tree's low hanging branches.

The more that he thought about it the more he realised he wanted to go out. He needed to. Sending a text to Greg he discovered the boys hadn't left yet, feeling relieved he paced over towards the front school gate, before standing in the shadows waiting.

The students officially weren't allowed out of the school grounds at night, however it being a Saturday night, the teachers often turned a blind eye to it, especially if there had been a successful football match during the day, they knew the pupils would want to celebrate. However John stuck to the shadows until the rest of the group turned up, for solely the fear that perhaps they might be unlucky and get a strict teacher looking out of the window and stopping them. The group erupted into hushed greetings when they saw John, all obviously pleased he was joining them as he was quickly becoming a popular and key member of the group. There were about ten of them in total because not all of the hockey team were part of the clique. After they had dodged the hurdle of the school gates and made it out them safely, they all were on the long country road which lead up to the nearest town, frequented by the students of the school.

John felt rather apprehensive to the night out once they started the steady twenty minute walk to the town. He glanced across at what he could see of Greg in the dim partially moonlit night, Greg grinned back at him before yelling across the noise the others were making ahead of them.

"You looking forward to this?" Greg asked.

"Yeah I guess so" he smiled back, "where are we even going though?"

One of the other guys heard him and responded whilst starting stupid dance moves in excitement.

"Roata's!"

"Roatas?" John asked confused.

"It's a club, probably the best in this tiny town." Greg replied whilst the others ran ahead chorally chanting the name repetitively and jumping up and down in anticipation, masculine energy radiating from them.

John didn't realise they were going to try to sneak into a club, and he immediately felt nervous as they were only 16 and he wasn't sure about whether he wanted to try his luck getting in or not. Then again, he thought about his fight with Sherlock and his anger just started boiling up again, no. He would go out. He deserved this, he needed to show Sherlock he didn't care what he thought. He also needed to have fun, something Sherlock didn't seem to want him to have.

To think that John had felt jealous of Molly taking up all of Sherlock's time, no not jealous. Just... Confused. John put the idea out of his mind, the whole matter of his jealously making him feel odd, like he could... Maybe he- he. No. Him and Sherlock were friends, not even friends, Sherlock had managed to ruin that one, John wasn't even sure he could be such good friends with Sherlock acting so difficult all the time.

-

Sherlock burst into the science lab, his hysterical mind growing increasingly so. He didn't feel like himself at all. Sherlock, hysterical? Not like him but he certainly felt it as he rushed over to Molly and thrust Felix into her arms, she was the only one in the lab luckily and she seemed very surprised to have a baby suddenly thrust upon her in such a manner.

"Sherlock? Wha-?"

Sherlock started to pace up and down beside one of the lab benches, his hands pressed to his head and his face screwed up in frustration and uncertainty as to what to do. Molly noted his behaviour, and putting Felix down, she got up and went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, he too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice her.

"Sherlo-" she began before he shrugged her away and lifting his head bolt upright, he then looked down at Molly beside him before grabbing her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes.

"Please look after Felix. I have to... I have to go out."

"Yes of course I will but where-"

"It doesn't- I don't- I shall work that part out later."

"Alright but are you ok-?"

Sherlock paid little attention to Molly's questions but now having secured Felix in trustworthy hands, Sherlock ran out of the door of the lab, and span round the top stair banister and practically leapt down each flight of stairs, until he got to the side door which lead to the path which would take you onto the long and winding road to the nearest town, where he was speculating the group of John's new friends would have gone.


	16. Chapter 16- "The course of true love never did run smooth"

John's head was extremely woozy, the only other times he had been this tipsy had been at middle class dinner parties with his parents, after a few too many glasses of wine.

He had been avidly drinking since they snuck into the club through a fire escape at the back about an hour ago, but the mixture of beer and the few vile coloured shots he had been persuaded to do, were starting to go to his head. A fact he wasn't particularly fussed about, as he wanted, (to some extent) to drown his sorrows in the alcohol. Make his mind stop fixating on the argument from earlier, which it was perpetually doing.

His friends had been doing a pretty good job so far of distracting him, Greg had been pulling out some very interesting and unusual dance moves on the dance floor, much to the hilarity of the group. John guessed he was doing it badly on purpose due to Greg winking over at him, however it was funny, all the same, and being part of this group was helping push away the nagging and persistent strange emotions he had been feeling lately.

-

Sherlock had been wandering aimlessly around the streets outside the club which were filled with those groups of friends either making their way to or from the pubs or bars. This was the place where he had deducted that John and his friends were, given the easy access and lack security of the small town club, who didn't care too greatly for seeing anyone's identification.

John's group had been in there for the last forty minutes, and during this time, Sherlock had been standing nearby, gearing up the courage to enter. He felt scared, not for fear of rejection due to his age, as even putting the lax rules aside, he was tall and looked far older than he was. No, he was more scared of John... What he was going to say to him. This type of rejection sent a fierce chill down his spine. What if John didn't want to be his friend any more? How would he cope? What would happen to Felix? Sherlock paced, his head reeling in these thoughts, his mind uneasy with sentiment.

-

John was pulled onto the busy dance floor by Greg, who was shouting as loud as he could above the music, trying to get John to relax. The array of multi-coloured lights flashed all around him, pulling him into a sort of hazed trance and fuelling what the alcohol had already started.

"Dance John!" He shouted grinning at his friend.

All the group surrounded them in a circle, the music loud and heavy enough that there was no point in even attempting conversation. John looked around to the raucous bar area, craving the taste of another cold beer, as with each one he had he was slowly getting further from the stresses of Sherlock, and he was starting to even find he was enjoying himself, in spite of the earlier fight they had had. Although something still lingered, a sense of something, he didn't know what it was. His fuzzy mind couldn't understand it, a sort of want for something? He brushed it aside, blaming it on his cravings for another beer, not thinking it could be anything else.

-

Sherlock collapsed in misery in the doorway of a closed shop, onto the cold and hard paving slabs, the doorway somewhat sheltering him from the stares of any other people on the street. His chest ached and he didn't have any clue why. And that unnerved him. He looked down to his hands and they were shaking like a leaf, so he shoved them into his coat pockets and scowled, disliking the feeling of weakness. He never felt weak. He never felt... sad? But right there, sitting in the doorway, riddled with uncertainty he felt overwhelming sadness. And he detested it.

-

As John's mates stood with him at the bar, they had caught the attention of a tall and blonde girl standing next to them, in the same position, waiting to get a drink. She was wearing a tight fitting skirt and a low cut top, and had a bag slung over one shoulder. Her heels gave the impression of height, elongating the look of her legs.

She was beckoned over by one of the guys in the group, and came over grinning and batting her long and fake eyelashes at the attention, obviously a little tipsy due to her staggering a little as she made her way into the centre of the group. The group eventually made their way back to the dance floor, bringing the girl over with them. As they all danced, the guys jovially tried to push her and John together, by 'accidentally' shoving into them as the crowd moved. John being tipsy and carefree, didn't feel awkward, in fact was quite enjoying the attention he was getting off of the girl and his friends and he began to laugh along with it. The girl seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself too, laughing and throwing back her long shining hair over her shoulder as she danced, running her hands through it and eyeing up John. So when she asked him loudly over the music, moving close to his ear, if he'd go outside with her so she could have a cig, he happily obliged and dutifully followed her out the back via the fire escape where they had originally entered from.

Sherlock stood up, he had gone over in his head exactly what he wanted to say to John. His apology was right on the tip of his tongue and he needed to find John and make him listen to it. Make him forgive him.

John politely as he could in his state, declined her offer of a cigarette and instead stood next to her, both of them leaning against the hard cold wall of the outside of the club, washed by the yellowing light of the street lamps. She breathed out the smoke into the cool night air, as John stood, trying to stop his vision from spinning.

He was now concluding that this was possibly the drunkest he'd ever been, as his brain started to have the strangest thoughts... About, Sherlock? He thought of his friend and the way his hair looked ruffled up first thing in the morning, the way his skin looked like porcelain, white and beautiful... beautiful? John didn't understand his mind's wandering thoughts right now, so he tried to focus on what this girl next to him was saying. She was speaking to him and he hadn't been listening. He managed to focus on her, just as she looked over at him, her eyes darting across his face. He nodded briefly as a way of a reply to whatever it was she had been saying to him, which he hadn't heard.

Sherlock walked around the side of building, his determination building. Find John, find John, he kept repeating in his head, Find John, apologise. Find John, apologise.

This mantra kept on through his head, again and again as he swiftly made his way to the only possible back entrance to the club where the group could have snuck in.

Until he saw it. He froze where he was, his mind blank and empty. He felt like all the life had been sucked out of him. There was John, his John.... Kissing a girl. A girl, (that with all probability) John had just met. Sherlock was rooted to the spot and his eyes were locked on the couple. Unable to move, he had no option but to watch them for the couple of seconds it took before John looked up and pulled away. Almost as if he could sense Sherlock's presence.

-

John hadn't expected the kiss, one minute he was just trying to focus on what she was saying and then the next, she had leant in and was kissing him. It wasn't his first kiss, he had kissed girls before, but this somehow felt wrong, completely wrong, and all he could think of was how Sherlock's face lit up when he played with Felix. That was the sole thought in his mind until he looked up. And there he was. Sherlock standing there. At first he thought he was imagining it, but the more he looked, even in his drunken stupor he realised that he was really there. Really standing over there in front of him. He didn't have any idea why he was there but nonetheless, John suddenly wanted to get away from this girl, to go to Sherlock.

He took a step back away from her, his eyes fixed on Sherlock, his eyebrows creased into a worried frown as he took a step towards his friend. Sherlock flinched at this and reacting by taking a step away from John as if he didn't want him to come any closer to him.

This jarred something in John's chest and he wanted overwhelmingly to apologise to Sherlock although he didn't know what for... surely it was just to apologise about their argument they had had earlier... or maybe... John and Sherlock's eyes locked for a moment more and John could see some sort of feeling he had never seen before in his friend's eyes... perhaps it was pain? Suddenly, their moment was snapped by John's friends pushing their way rowdily out of the fire escape, laughing and drunkenly shoving each other.

By the time John had looked over to the group and then back to where Sherlock had been standing, he was gone, leaving nothing but the orange glow of the streetlamps radiating out onto the pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please comment if you enjoy it or if you dont! I want to hear what everybody thinks! Thankyou!!! :) xxx


	17. Chapter 17- "Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Hope that the people still reading this story enjoy the update :) As always, comment to tell me what you think! It really brings me joy to hear what you guys think! Love you all! xxxx

At 3 AM John darted through the door of their dorm room, hurriedly shutting it behind him. In the last couple of hours he had sobered up considerably since the occurrence at the club.

After he had seen Sherlock, all John had wanted to do was to go after him, to find him again, but his friends had surrounded him and not allowed him to leave. John had thought about simply leaving by himself, however he had no idea how he would have navigated the long, dark treacherous road home without the group. Finally though, he had persuaded the others that it was late enough, and he was now home.

The room was plunged in thick black darkness and there was a moment where John took in the sudden silence after the loud noises of the club and all his friends joviality. Nervous anticipation had been ringing through his veins and left him almost shaky as he flicked on the light by the door, it had almost dissipated by the time he had got to the room however, as he was expecting due to the darkness, to see the room empty, but as the light flooded into the room and his eyes adjusted, he could see the skinny form of Sherlock sitting sprawled on the floor. His back was leaning against the wrong side of the sofa and his eyes were half shut in a stupor. John's face rapidly turned to one of worry as he spotted the small empty bottle of whisky lying just behind his friend, the cap thrown a few paces off.

"Sherlock?" John tentatively approached, looking over his obviously drunk friend through his newly sober eyes.

Sherlock opened his eyes and clocked two or maybe three Johns standing in front of him, he lurched to his feet, the room spinning around him.

"No! Leave me alone" he shouted, wildly raising his arms before turning around and throwing himself onto the sofa face first.

John moved slowly towards the sofa where his friend had quickly curled himself up into a little ball in the corner, his long curls falling across his face, looking as small and as fragile as Felix.

"Sherlock, please... Let me just talk to you."

Sherlock looked up, his eyes narrowing and his head swaying slightly from drunkenness. John moved to approach him, but before he could even take one step, he was rooted to the spot by the mere fact that Sherlock flinched away from him as he moved. This shook John to his core.

Was Sherlock actually scared of him? He turned his face down and away from his friend, his eyes filled with hurt and confusion. His head still hung, he muttered to himself, growing slowly frustrated with this version of Sherlock he had come home to.

"Sherlock." He lifted his head up to face him again, and found that Sherlock was staring back. His ice blue orbs reflecting back at John his own pain. "It didn't mean anything... She kissed me." John found himself saying, not understanding quite why he felt the need to justify the previous action. Sherlock merely stared back, and John no longer being able to take the look in his friend's eyes, looked anywhere but into them.

"I didn't want it to happen. It just did."

The drunk boy raised himself from the sofa and staggered away from his friend towards the cabinet on the other side of the room, before coming back with an object in his hands; his gift.

"I just thoug-" Sherlock began, slurring his words slightly. "I-just-wante-to-hav-one-evenin- wher-we-could-be wi-Felix. All-thre-o-us-together" "You-always-out-always oth- friends-always-hockey. Never me."

He looked down at the gift in his hands and it suddenly seemed so pointless, so irrelevant to him. Why would John ever want this gift? As when he had planned to give it, it was truly to try to show John how good he could be at parenting, but John didn't care anyway. Silly, sentimental gift. He chucked the box into the corner where it made a dull clang as it hit the wall. "An-I-com-an-find-you-an-you-don-care-anymore." Sherlock finished, his face creasing into a sad realisation, and with this he crumpled onto the sofa again, and curled himself back into the corner. Not crying, but breathing heavily with his eyes wide open and staring into space as he hugged his knees.

John's heart broke even more at this, the sight of his friend who was always strong, always sarcastic and defiant, always the one who never showed emotion, suddenly becoming someone who needed him. John tightened his lip so he could appear stronger than he felt, and moved over and sat next to his friend.

"Sherlock... I don't know what to- I am really sorry." He blurted, a wave of emotion rushing over him. "If I had- If I had known you felt like this, I could've- been better to you." He cursed under his breath, and his eyes clocked the object Sherlock had thrown across the room, the paper slightly uncovered in the fall, showing the edge of something delicate and beautiful inside.

"Sherlock... What is that? What did you just throw over there?" He stood up and retrieved the item and brought it back to the sofa with him. Sherlock looked up at him, his face going pale. All of a sudden his friend leant over to the floor and threw up. John immediately knew how to behave and briskly hauled his friend towards the bathroom, offering reassuring words as he did so. He then held back his friend's hair and patted his back as he proceeded to throw up all of the bottle of whisky he had so ardently polished off earlier.

Once it was over, he wrapped him in a blanket and plonked Sherlock back onto the sofa with a cup of tea in his hand to settle his stomach.

"There you go, you feeling slightly better?" John asked, sitting down next to him, with his own cup of tea. Sherlock just nodded and sipped his tea languorously.

-

After a very short time Sherlock had sobered up entirely, all the alcohol now being out of his body. John had cleaned up his sick from the floor, despite Sherlock's protestations, who had been ordered to remain huddled in the blanket on the sofa. Once John was done and sat back down he heard Sherlock murmur under his breath.

"I'm sorry."

John's head raised, very rarely if ever in his recollection being able to remember his friend saying such a thing.

"Pardon?" He asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry." He muttered a little louder, his eyes on his empty cup still in his hands.

"For what?"

"All of that. Being like that, so much trouble, you having to take care of me."

John just smiled at his friend. "No trouble at all, it was my pleasure."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment before nodding slightly. There was a brief moment of pause before Sherlock turned and retrieved the package from where John had placed it earlier.

"This- This is for you. Well- Not exactly, it's for Felix. I missed the 6 month milestone. I wanted to do something for the 7 month instead. So I- Well you'll see." He gestured for John to open the package.

John rather curious by now, pulled apart the paper and suddenly in his hand he was holding the most exquisite little music box he could ever imagine. His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in amazement, he turned the beautifully crafted object over in his hands.

"You see you wind it up here, and then you open it here-"

The second Sherlock lifted the lid, the beautiful notes of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor rang out in dainty tones across the room. It brought a tear to John's eyes as he heard the docile tones and he rapidly shut his eyes as an attempt to stop a flood as the music washed over him.

"Mendelssohn, Felix Mendelssohn" John whispered, in awe at the beauty and thoughtfulness of Sherlock's gift.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, his eyes creased in worry at his friend's reaction. As soon as John opened his eyes he saw this and went to reassure him that they were happy tears, but his friend cut in first.

"Its for the 7 month old birthday, which apparently the number 7 and an anniversary is associated with copper, so that's why the box has-"

He was cut off in surprise by John pulling him into a strong hug. His arms firmly and lovingly clasped around this wonderful and amazing boy. Sherlock felt his heart flutter as his face relaxed and he felt his friend's warm arms around him. He touched the soft downy fabric of the back of John's jumper, running his fingertips across it as he breathed in the smell of John.

It seemed all too soon before they both unwillingly pulled away and let go of each other. In the moment which followed they found themselves face to face, incredibly close to one another as they looked into each other's eyes. Each pair of spheres as confused and as nervous as the other, so close they could feel each other's breath gently on their faces. Then the moment was gone, they moved swiftly apart on the sofa, each questioning exactly what it was which they had both felt, and hoping ardently that the other felt it too.


	18. Chapter 18 - "Conceal me what I am, and be my aid"

Halloween was fast approaching and John tried to focus on the upcoming holiday instead of his jumbled melange of feelings which were shooting around his brain.

The day of Halloween fell within the half term for the school, so the students were allowed to return home for the week if they wished. John had wanted therefore, to do something memorable with Sherlock and Felix, and he was sure that Felix would love this holiday especially the part where he got to dress up. John already had so many ideas for a costume for him, and the thought of creating it was making him very excited.

It was the morning that the half term began and Sherlock and John were planning to return to Sherlock's flat in London and took great pains to leave in the middle of the night, as Sherlock insisted that this was a good cover to hide Felix. John felt as though they probably could have managed to sneak away during the day, however when it came to it, there was something rather exciting about leaving and walking through the grounds in the cool night air whilst everyone else was sleeping.

It was as though some sort of magic lingered in the air as the birds started to tweet and the sun began to peep from behind grey heavy clouds. And the pale blue morning light made all the red leaves on the trees appear as though it was still summer, and they weren't in fact dying and about to fall off onto the ground. The light washed everything with a sense of excitement, and John felt this as he clutched Felix to his chest and scurried through the trees. Once they stepped off the train into London again, Sherlock ran outside of the station and stood breathing in the morning air. John scuttled after him, and looked at his friend confused until he understood. This was Sherlock's city, this was where he belonged, and he was merely taking it all back in again after the months he had spent away. He grinned over at his friend who remained perfectly still with his eyes closed and his mouth slightly parted, breathing deeply through his nose.

In the days which followed the night out, Sherlock had reverted much back to his old self, not even mentioning the state he had been in, and brushing entirely past the moment they had shared together. This confused John even more because he started to even doubt himself that the moment had happened, and that this side to Sherlock, the vulnerable and dependent side, was merely a figment of his overactive imagination and not there inside his friend at all.

-

Back at the flat John sunk down into his chair, feeling entirely like he was home again. He shut his eyes briefly, intending to just rest them, but instead fell asleep, and woke suddenly to the sound of Felix burbling away in his baby speak, to presumably Sherlock. John wrenched himself from his comfortable chair which had started to mould itself back to his shape, and went towards the kitchen and the sound.

Sherlock was holding Felix in his arms, the little boy dressed in a long dark coat and black top hat which was clearly too big for him, and completely covered in red paint. The paint had somehow managed to also find its way to be all over the kitchen counter, floor, splatterings on the walls, all over Sherlock and also every appliance in the kitchen.

"Sherlock! What on ear-" John exclaimed, walking towards the two of them.

"John!" He shouted gleefully, holding out Felix for him to see. "Look!"

"Yes Sherlock... I can see, he's a um, well... what is he supposed to be?"

"Jack the Ripper! After he's killed all the prostitutes." Sherlock beamed, "Doesn't he look excellent."

"Sherlock... Is that an appropriate costume for a baby to be wearing?" John asked, coming over closer to look at his son.

Sherlock looked practically wounded, "of course it is John! The Whitechapel murders were a prominent series of murders and I thin-"

"Yes they may have been prominent Sherlock, but this is hardly a costume for a child... Is that supposed to be the blood of the dead prostitutes?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, surly and glaring back at John. "Halloween is supposed to be frightening!" He exclaimed adamantly.

John sighed and rubbed his forehead. He looked over to Sherlock's pouting, angry face looking hopefully over at John and realised he had little choice if he wanted to keep Sherlock happy. "Well, I suppose we don't have anything else-"

Sherlock beamed and spun Felix around, red paint spraying all around them. John couldn't help but grin, and he suddenly relaxed into it. Pushing aside his own ideas for a costume, he went over to join the pair, and began to add his own smears of red paint onto Felix, a smile dawning on his face as he did so.

-

Later on, once it was dark, the three of them wrapped up as warm as they could and plonked Felix into his pushchair and went out onto the street. London was funny about trick or treating, most people (especially in central London) were very against the idea, and nearly every window contained an angry sign telling trick or treaters to go away. Sherlock glanced over at John as they walked down street after street of dark, uninviting looking houses, his friend looked downtrodden, Sherlock couldn't bear it. He looked around him, observing the street, observing the other people and his eye caught the very corner of what looked to be a child's costume walking the other way on the opposite side of the street. His ears picked up the sound of laughter, the giggling of children and the commanding tone of a parent. He whirled the pram around and grabbed hold of John.

"He- What you doing?"

"This way." Said Sherlock, his eyes on the group he was following. The proceeded to follow them down a series of streets and routes, on roads John didn't even know existed, until they arrived on the most amazing looking street John had seen that evening.

"Wow." John murmured, his eyes scouring every inch of it.

The street was decked in tiny lanterns which had been strung between all of the lamp posts. Each house had a little orange pumpkin lit outside, every one with a different face carved into it. There were decorations in all the front lawns and there were children milling about everywhere, all in costumes and carrying little bags full of sweets.

John grinned over at Sherlock,

"This is amazing, isn't it?"

Sherlock made a tutting noise under his breath at himself "I should have known it would be here." he murmured.

John still grinned and linked his arm into Sherlock's, "come on, you can't be grumpy, we found this amazing street! Well no, you found it. Let's go trick or treating!"

Sherlock's mouth began to twitch into a smile as they abandoned the pram and carried Felix down the street with them, watching all the other children go from house to house.

"You wanna try?" John asked, indicating an inviting looking house which a group of children was about to go to.

Sherlock nodded, and the pair headed over to the door, standing behind a group of small children all dressed up and pointing out to Felix the pumpkin and all the decorations, to which he made small delighted gurglings at.

"TRICK OR TREAT!" The children yelled, joined in by John too at the back of the crowd, as the door opened to the house. A kind looking woman with greying hair opened the door holding a big bowl of sweets in her hands.

"Well what do we have here then?" She asked smiling, whilst looking down at the children on her doorstep. "A cat, a witch, a zombie, a princess... And a?" She looked at Felix.

"A 'Jack the Ripper'." Sherlock announced.

"Oh how wonderful! Here you go children, take some sweets." As each child got their sweets they ran back to the street for the next house with a squeak of "Thankyou" in their wake. John reached in and plucked a few sweets for Felix and put them in his bucket.

"Thanks" He said smiling at the lady.

-

There was a small girl, wearing a cat costume sitting on a front wall of a house they went up to. She waved at the three of them and leapt down.

"Ohmygoodness he's adorable!" She exclaimed jumping up and down and making baby noises at Felix and tickling him. "What's his name?"

"Felix Tobias Watson-Holmes" Sherlock declared before John could get a word in edgeways.

"I'm Cecilia Ophelia Rosalind Brown" She announced, "My parents were sorta into Shakespeare" She said smiling at Felix and tickling him some more. "Can I come with Felix to the next house?" She suddenly interjected, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"I don't see why not" John said laughing and looking to Sherlock for confirmation.

They walked behind the small girl who was now carrying Felix and talking at a rate of knots to him as she walked excitedly to house after house, helping him collect his sweets.

Once they had finished the street, She handed Felix back to John.

"I should probably go now" She said sadly, scuffing her shoe against a curb. "Bye Felix! Bye bye Felix's Daddies!" She gave a wave and then skipped around the corner getting lost in the dark within seconds.

John went to ask where her parents were but she had already gone so he just smiled as he waved her off, Felix seemed to have really liked her. The pair wandered with Felix back towards central London and the flat, carrying a very heavy bag of sweets with them. Sherlock frowned as they did so, unseen by John in the dark night, he frowned because this little girl had seen them as parents and he liked that, he wanted? To be the parents this little girl had seen. Which meant...? He didn't know what it meant, it meant he wanted to be a pair with John. He didn't want them to be apart, never broken. He looked across at John carrying Felix and the bucket of sweets and started.

"Here i'll take that" He said, going to take the bucket from John's hand. His fingers brushed John's and sent a thrill up his spine, like electricity as they touched, John clearly felt it too and looked up at Sherlock, his eye's wide and questioning. Uncertain as to everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment if you like it! :)


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